


FNaF - Sinister Shadows

by Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Demonic Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Friendship, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato/pseuds/Corpsetalia_fan_the_Brotato
Summary: While wandering the pizzeria one day, Freddy gets called back to a very familiar, and painfully familiar room that he and the other animatronics do their best to ignore. He is forced to remember every detail about he and his friends death, and is left wondering why he was shown these memories again, and why it was even done in the first place. As more time passes, the bear finds himself losing control of his temper, and even becoming more aggressive with the other animatronics, which is not like him. What happened when he was shown these memories, and better yet, why did the shadow that lead him there in the first place want him to be there in particular?
Comments: 12
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Mechanical whirring spirals over the emptiness of the pizzeria, echoing off the walls, before eerily making the turn to reverberate back to the ear censors of a large, metal bear. Often times, it might have been received as overbearing, or even scary. Though, with 30 years on them in this dusty place, it seemed that anything produced by their heavy movement was no longer surprising. Nor did it bear any sort of affect on their knowledge on who was in the restaurant, and who was not.

For years, it was just his friends, and himself. Serving children with entertainment, the same kind they had gotten, before they were ruthlessly murdered by that purple clad man. 

Continuing his stiff walk around the stagnant setting that he and his friends had come to call their home, he observed the sparsely cleaned, yet somehow passable walls. Pictures from small children lay all over the walls, scribbles and happy memories immortalized on papers that had been placed in certain areas that children wanted them to be. 

The silence of the pizzeria was deafening, even on metallic and wire ears. The sound of Bonnie strumming on his guitar was not present as a reverberation in the hallways. Foxy humming his short tune from the cove also never seemed to come over the halls, nor the party rooms. Chica clanging her pots and pans as she attempted organize and carefully do dishes also never reached Freddy's ears. 

The blue eyed bear had let his concerned face pan over the surroundings, optics focusing in on several clustered areas where balloons and drawings occupied the walls. As he did this though, a gravelly voice, clouded in whispers roused from somewhere unknown.

"Freeedyy~" 'ᶠʳᵉᵉᵉᵈʸʸ,Fᵣₑₑₑ𝒹ᵧ...' 

The voice drawled out over the seemingly abandoned pizzeria, and echoed off every tile, overwhelming, and unsettling. Freddy would have shivered if he could, yet here he was, almost feeling a chill want to run down his endoskeleton. 

Following where he thought the voice was calling him from,he calls out the names of his friends, waiting to see if any one of them were going to pop in out of no where and tell him they were messing around. 

"Chica..? Bonnie..?" he continued his tentative walk forward, directing his gaze in a new direction frequently. "Foxy..?" he called out the name of his other friend. There was once again no replies, not of his fellow animatronic's metallic voices, or of the activity that they had always brought with themselves. 

Lending his hand out to a door handle, he twisted it gingerly, in hopes of not making anyone on the other end of it scurry off in awareness of his presence. Pushing it open gently, he let his optics rotate around the room, only to catch notice of something odd.

"I could have sworn this was the room to the second party room... why am I at the stage?" he let his gaze fall left, then right, observing the fine wooden stage,shaded and concealed behind the purple curtains that shielded view of a cartoonish sun, clouds, and a checker tiled wall occupying the lower third. 

Drawing himself out of the stage area, he continued to look around, desperate to find any source of the voice he could. His inner gears were turning in worry as he called for his friends once more. Just to, once again, receive no answers. 

The voice, however, came again, and bellowed to him from somewhere concealed. It was chilling, and alluring. Drawing him nearer and nearer to a certain room.. that it always pained him and the others to look at as they passed by it. The very room where all of their blood was drawn, lives cut shorter on an already shortened string. 

Finding himself lost in his troubled mind, the animatronic allowed himself the time to sit down, and stare into the bland, most-likely musty smelling room. He wouldn't be able to tell if it had such a scent anymore. The blue eyes seemed to even be off in their own worlds, loose, and unfocused on any particular area. 

The events of those days still haunted him.. leading him to wonder why he and his friends had to be condemned to such a fate. Whatever did they do wrong in their living lives to make them have to gain death? All of the painful memories made his head hurt, though headaches were impossible for such characters as himself. 

Freddy, as most might have assumed, was considered to be the leader of their little group. He kept everyone in line, and helped wherever he could. Chica was the little sister, no matter how much she had went through, she was always worried about someone else more. She was not the only one who had been hurt, and that was everything she needed to keep herself from being too despondent.

Bonnie was often brought down by memories of his death, seeing as he was the last one that remained alive, reasonably, he had made a run for it. Foxy, the poor ill child was unable to do much moving at all. He tried to dodge, seeing as he wasn’t able to run well. He was the third one down. 

All of the memories came back to Freddy, causing him to lean into the door-frame. He bought his mechanical hand over his chest, and almost felt as if he needed air that he had not needed in over 30 years. His eyes closed, and his world was surrounded in black, then, the feeling of falling overtook him.

The memory to all of them was still so vivid, and clear. There they were, in that room, drenched in cleaning solutions, and robotic specialized oil byproducts. Loose animatronic parts for upcoming animatronic characters at the time were askew, decorating the room in a chronic matter.

Light crept in through a window that had hardly been left ajar near the ceiling, gently showering into the otherwise mal-lit room. The door behind all of the children had clanged shut, the doorknob locking upon the contact with the door-frame. 

The man clad in a dark purple uniform looked down upon them, a wide, sickening grin spread over his face like butter on toast. His eyes were narrow, and nearly snake like, deceiving, thin, and simple with the smell of evil emanating off of him. Stubble on his face was clumsily shaven, implying to an older crowd that the man was shamelessly drunk.

He let out a bellow of amusement as the kids all had attempted to run toward the door, knowing well that he had the key. The key, sadly, held the only means to unlock it from either side of the door. Meaning there was no getting in, nor getting out.

The man then proceeded to pull a pizzeria issued head mask, and slid it over his noggin, eyes peering through the holes he had cut for better sight. Doing so, however, gave the children time to go over, and bang on the door, screaming and crying for someone, anyone to come and get them out of that disgusting, overwhelming room. 

Their calls had seemed to fall on deaf ears though, reaching only outside, where the bit of noise escaped from the night air, lost in the wind, and the intense whirring of vehicles in nearby traffic.

Freddy, who was, conveniently named Frederick as a human, was in front of the others, occupying the gap between the other kids and the murderous man that had lead them all into this musty, used room. He was shaking, eyes wide, and wandering with the shivering lack of concentration as he looked up at that horrid being. He was urging the others back, trying to get them to gain more space between themselves and the purple man. 

Chica, whom was called Emily when she was alive, was crying her little heart out, shaking, and sobbing as he begged for her momma to come and get her. Begging for her papa, who promised her that they were going to have ice cream after they were all done at the pizzeria. Yearning for her big brother who wanted to hear all about what it was like at the restaurant this time. How much fun they had, and what they did; or even what the animatronics sang on stage for the night. 

Bonnie, who's living name was Ethan, remained as close to both Emily and Gunther as he could, so they wouldn’t get separated. If they found a way to open that door, he was going to be needed to pick up either one, or both of them. Gunther, who was now known as Foxy, got flushed easily, and was prone to asthma. 

Emily started banging on the door hopelessly again as Fred protectively held his arms up in front of the other three children. The tall purple monster was toying with them… he was swinging his knife, and missing on purpose… laughing as the kids all cried. 

Terrified, and struck with a chill, Fred had to make a move, otherwise, trying to keep this man away from the others was going to sink before it even attempted to set sail. Fred was the youngest of the group, but his dad had been in the military. He had showed the interested tyke how to attempt to dodge certain moves. If his dad were here right now… he might have been able to bust down the door, right? Right?! His dad though, was away at another ‘drafting’ as he had said it was. 

‘Fred, I admire your dream to be a singer when you get older. However, singers can get into a lot of danger too. They are often under targets that no one else knows about because bad people dislike them for reasons that others would not understand.’ it seems that everyone was able to get into trouble, no matter who they were. ‘Come on, my boy, let ol’ dad teach you some helpful lessons, before I head back out for my drafting.’ 

Sucking up all of the courage left in his 10 year old body, Fred made a move, and quickly ran forward, trying his best to remember what his dad had said to him. He saw where the knife was,and how it was being held by the smiling man in front of him with that rabbit mask.

Fred made a false move to the right, just to turn left, and go the other direction. The knife replacing his spot as it was stabbed down at him, just to miss. He dived into the murderers legs, and forced all of his weight into his dive, pushing forward as he did such. 

The rabbit faced man let out a roar of outrage, before falling backward, smashing into a crate, and breaking it under his weight. Splinters sunk into his back, and scraped at his flesh, before he pulled himself up from his fall. The crate was now smashed, loose gears and other robotic parts pooling from the wooden obscurity. Revealed behind that crate though, was large adult-sized vent. Cold air flowing in from the area, and washing over the room, just to make it even more chilly. 

Growling in annoyance, and rage, the purple man had quickly pulled himself up, catching Fred’s arm as the brunette tried to pull himself to his feet and retreat back to the others, to help them continue calling for help or find a way out of there. “Oh no you don’t, I need to pay you back for what you just did, damaging company property, and aggravated assault!” 

It was funny how easy it was to be hypocritical just to gain any kind of sociopath-laced entertainment you could from such a horrid, and terrifying situation you are inflicting upon little kids. Fred felt himself get pulled back, closer to the man before the knife was brought down into his shoulder. 

Letting out a horrified, and sudden scream of pain seemed to shake the building around himself, though it was most likely his mortified trembling. He felt the knife get retracted from his shoulder, and sunken back in with even more force behind it than the last one had. As soon as it had broken the flesh, he let out another pained, and terrified cry. With enough struggling, he managed to quickly pull himself back, backing up to the same area his friends were all at. 

There was a loud, and firm bang against the door, before muffled yells and worried crying seemed in from the bottom. The view of Ethan’s parents were there, trying their best to open the door hopelessly. Ethan’s tear-stained face met theirs as he pulled Emily and Gunther closer, in an attempt to huddle them away from the killer in the room with them. Fred, was out of reach, trying his best to stop the bleeding, whilst barely avoiding the knife being brought down on him every few seconds. 

The banging on the door was becoming more and more desperate, the mother screaming her babies name, and the name of the children she had also become fond of. She did her best to find a way to break the glass that lie there to poison their view, the drawing of blood and the loss of lives.Despite how much pressure was put onto the glass, it would not budge, not even under the weight and force of a seemingly full fire extinguisher.

Ethan had quickly looked around to try and find something, anything that might help Freddy without leaving Emily and Gunther without his protection. Scanning the ground quickly with panicked eyes, he picked up a glint of metal, and quickly ran to it before grabbing the object, which was a weighted gear. 

Then, with not a second of time to waste, he ran to the purple clad monster, and he smashed the object over the back of his head. Ethan had effectively split the skin, penetrating the scalp. Repeating the object several more times, he screamed in distress, before retracting himself, and hurriedly stumbling over to the other two again. Clumsily helping limp Fred to the group with him, desperate for it all to be over. 

The bunny-faced attacker was lying idly on the ground, not moving a muscle. His hand still laying over his knife, Fred caught of it, and tried to move to go and get it, so he could get it away from the man. His dad always said leaving weapons in possession of the opposed was begging for trouble. His eyes watered again at the immense burst of pain, and the stickiness of his hand, which was failing to keep the blood from flowing. 

Ethan’s mother was relieved that none of the other children were hurt, and that her son thought fast enough to stop the attacker. She continued to cry, at the sight of her friend’s son. A sweet, and caring little boy. The only child of her friend, in comparison to all the other children, whom had siblings. Fred was often alone, and only got to hang out with his friends for entertainment. Imagine, if he was killed, his mother… a woman who barely got to see her husband, would now have lost her only child. A hard working man who had done everything in his power to provide well for his family, would have been miles and miles away from even being able to protect his own kid.

Before anyone could react, or even completely understand what was going on, there was a series of quickened steps, and another scream before a gurgle, and the sound of liquid spilling on concrete. 

Bonnie looked up in horror with Emily and Gunther in his arms. Freddy, had escaped his grasp, and shielded the others without a second thought, despite his tiredness, and lack of balance. He was standing there, staring at the dark-haired friend, eyes wide, and dilated. 

An eerie, cascading laughter filled the room, before the purple clad attacked moved himself back, retracting his knife from where he had stabbed the brunette child. Fred’s body started falling backward, having been dragged back by the man’s knife.There, in his throat, was a huge gash, blood spilling from the huge hole near his jugular. Rising from from his mouth, and nose, and falling to the floor. 

The knife continued to plunge though, not stopping with a meager throat wound, no. The child’s body was dragged back, and stabbed several times, several in the chest, more in the arms and legs. The man refused to stop, and continued to howl in amusement as he did his horrid deeds. Fred’s eyes were staring blankly at the ceiling of the darkened room as the last bit of tears he had were escaping him. His left hand was formed into a pointing motion, gesturing to the large vent that rested near the broken crate. 

The world around him was overbearing, and cold. Fred had done his best to keep himself warm, the memories of himself and his dad playing football in the yard… his very first microphone toy… his mother always telling him how much of a little man he was. He remembered the strong arms of his dad carrying him away from the lake when he got scared of the water. The gentle pets on the head from his mother when she calmed him down after a storm. The feeling of his pet cats silky fur under his clumsy fingers as he gently pet the feline. It was all such small and seemingly harmless things that he remembered. The smallest and most memorable things that made him feel so empty and alone now. He didn’t even see a light… he saw darkness… he didn’t feel light, he felt so hopelessly heavy.

He then remembered all of the times that Ethan stood up for him at school, or even scared his lunch. He remembered how often Emily wanted to braid his hair, seeing as he didn’t cut it as short as the other two boys. Fred also remembered staying over with Gunther for the night because the poor sick boy had no one over for his birthday party, and afterward Ethan and Emily had to go home. 

He then started to ponder on his other memories, wanting to cry even more. He wanted his dad, he wanted mom… he wanted to hold hands with them as they walked to the park together. He wanted to play cookie monster with his dad before receiving a few of the tasty snacks. He wanted to pester his mom to help her with dinner, because he knew she wasn’t going to ask for assistance. He wanted to cuddle up to his cat, and snuggle her soft coat as he fell asleep. Knowing well the cat was going to be right next to him in the morning when he opened his eyes to his alarm. 

‘I don’t want to be here… please… I wanna go home…’

Ethan couldn’t move, he watched as Fred got turned into nothing more than a pool of blood, and what would have passed as his clothing, along with the strands of his lighter brown hair. Several more stab wounds, and now gashes, and even the severing of an arm had been done, the body long since abandoned by the child that hosted it. 

Ethan’s parents stood there in mortification. That sweet little boy that had been the very first friend to their son, lay there shredded as if he were just a piece of meat, laying idly on the concrete. The husband continued kicking the door, followed by several of the employees of Fazbear’s Diner, that were also too disgusted to keep in their restaurant provided lunches at this point. 

Ethan’s mother, shivering, watched desperately as she caught a good glimpse of the horrid beings name badge through teary eyes. ‘Vincent’ it read, she couldn’t make out the last name. 

After this ‘Vincent’ had left the body of Fred, and started making his way over to Ethan, Emily and Gunther. The same wicked smile plastered across his face, hands itching at the sensation of the blood that had been running across them from his first victim. The bodily crimson of Fred splattered over his clothing, arms and face. 

Emily was so scared she could hardly pull any sobs from her throat any longer, and Gunther had been struggling to breathe due to the swarm of overwhelming emotions clogging his throat and nose. He barely willed his arms to fully even clench in the attempt to calm his trembling body down. Ethan, by this point was so sad he was partially numb. Fred, his best friend, and the youngest of all of them had been killed. 

To add insult to injury, what did he do? Ethan did... nothing. He tried desperately to open a door, and only smacked the wretched monster towering above them with a gear hard enough to barely stun the man into unconsciousness. 

He pulls himself up off the ground, hurrying to try and defend the two younger kids. Emily and Gunther huddled together, were too terrified to even speak, or whine. The sickly boy was close to passing out from a lack of proper oxygen.

Ethan backed up several times, before finally lunging forward,and repeating what he saw Fred do. The difference between he and his fallen friend was that Fred had actually known what he was doing. Ethan, on the other hand, did not. Using the same trick on the murderer ahead of himself was a morbid mistake. 

Rather than being able to trick him into going one way, and diverging another way himself, he was caught, and forcefully slammed to the ground with the weight of the mans foot pinning down his arms. After registering that he was unable to use his top limbs, the boy resorted to attempting to flail his feet, in hopes of hitting the bunny-faced murderer where it hurt. 

Another laugh crept up from the man's throat as he leans down over the child, his face twisting up even more under the mask keeping it darkly concealed.

"You and your cute little friends are not getting out of here alive, kid! Come now, let's have some fun! I will kill off that little girl first, and string her intestines over the wills like those putrid streamers this bothersome place loves to use. Then, I will go over to your pasty sheep of a friend, and remove his hands. Who knows, maybe I can make them into back-scratches!" the thoughts, no matter how ludicrous they were in nature, were just as terrifying. 

"We didn't do anything to you, they didn't do anything to you?! What did we do so wrong that you are so mad?!" the desperate brunette cried over the tension building in his chest, his face flushed from moving constantly. 

"You, kids didn't do anything wrong. I just wanted to try out something. You poor bastards were who was here at the time." The man scoffed, seeming to let out a growling giggle as he brought his knife back, swiping it across the boys face. 

Ethan let out a shriek of pain, just for another gash to come, then another, and one more. He sobbed hard, and tears fell from his damaged eyes, the salty liquid burning the open wounds as it fell from his face. 

He desperately struggled, sobbing more, before receiving a stab to his right arm. Another wail came from him, his parents angry, concerned voices bellowing in from behind the door, the pounding of the metal obscurity was deafening. The throbbing of his rapid heartbeat rising to his ears, and giving him a massive headache. 

Ethan could hardly convince himself to move anymore, hardly registering the firm hands over his throat, he could barely breathe. Saliva built in his throat, before slowly rising and sliding down one of his cheeks. He then choked, struggling to move, and scratching at the ground, his nails aching due to unbeknownst pressure he was putting on them. 

After then, he had passed out. Falling limp, and still. Lifeless, in outward observation. 

\-- - - - - - - - - - - - - --

As she watched the eldest of them get his face cut into by the horrid being over them, Emily had finally sucked in a squeaky breath, and made a run forward. Her feet barely making noise over the cement flooring, and arms clenched. She had no idea how to actually fight, nor did she ever have any want to. Mommy always told her that fighting was bad, that fighting was wrong. 

Wrong. There were so many things in the world that could be justified, or argued to be wrong. Yet, here they were, people like this horrid monster above all of them, this bunny-faced boogeyman. He didn’t care about the rules, he didn’t care who he hurt, as long as he got his sickening version of ‘fun’. 

She didn’t care if she got hurt, she was too worried about Ethan and Gunther. Terrified for herself, and anyone else this man runs across that he decides he wants to hurt. Her small fingers tightened considerably, turning her flesh a pale ghostly color. Her ran up behind the man, and jumped on him, attempting to hurt him with her flailing arms.

Hitting at the back of his head, which was shielded by the bunny mask. Clawing at his uncovered arms, and even doing her best to kick him several times. The purple colored monstrosity stood himself up, before turning on his heels, and slapping the little girl across the face. The force was enough to send the girl stumbling into the wall head first; the impact against the wall stunned the little girl, who then fell to the floor, crying in pain from the stinging sensation on her cheeks, and a splitting headache. 

The bunny-faced boogeyman then made his way to the little girl, who started to scream in fright. She sobbed, and curled up, too frightened to move, hoping that Gunther was going to take the chance to hurry and attempt to escape. She covered her face with her arms, and sobbed once more, shaking from the turmoil building inside her chest, and the utter fright of their situations, and what may happen after it. 

The banging on the door got louder and louder as the employees had tried to ram tables and chairs against the door, anything crashed against the window was useless, though it did start to crack from contact pressure. Another employee had even tried every single key he found in the security office to open the doors. One after the other, none of the keys worked on the door. All failing to make that firm knob turn, or even budge in the slightest. Kitchen tools were even useless on the window, only clanging off of the transparent obstacle. 

By this point, Ethan’s distressed parents just looked at the boy’s body, which lay idle on the floor from where Emily had drawn the man away. Only to get a firm slap to the face, and most likely, an oncoming concussion. Watching closer, and attempting to continue banging on the door, Ethan’s mother spotted the man pinning the girl to the ground; her weak arms under his heavy knees. 

She was still sobbing, and shaking her head, doing her best to avoid his grasp wherever he tried to guide it. He however, got a hold of her soft, golden hair and slammed her head down into the concrete thrice. The first time, there was no real effect, the second and third time though, blood started to pool under her noggin, staining her hair and daisy-yellow shirt. 

Gunther shook as his breath hitched, his face even more pale than what it usually was, he tried to run forward, but he felt his chest tightening already from his already low oxygen levels. He leapt onto the man and attempted to drag his head back, and distract him for the poor girl laying under him. His own light brown eyes trying to go unfocused. 

His assault was quickly cut short, as he was thrown off the back of the monster he was trying to distract, and fell to the ground heavily, knocking the wind from him easily. He gagged, and tried to get some of his air back, hopelessly for the first half a minute. His face had gotten red, and he had tried to cough to release his airways. 

Emily heard the other cough, faintly, before he registered that the man’s hand was grasping her hair again, then with the other hand, he stuck his hand in her mouth, and began to pull in opposite directions. Using his strength to pull up with the hand that was in her hair, and down with his hand that was over her bottom teeth and chin. 

It seemed as if nothing was happening, at first, but soon enough, there was a sickening snap and an almost animalistic wail from the little girl in his grasp. Her large blue eyes watering her jaw now hang from the rest of her face, loose. She felt pure agony, feeling it dangling there, with no more control to move it anymore. Before she could scream anymore though, the bunny-faced monstrosity over her slammed her head down onto the ground again several times. 

Then, after bashing her skull in, he cackled, and with a swift movement, and dropped her nogin, aware that she was still barely alive. As a final move the man then stood up, hand twitching in amusement as he had been getting bored with this prey. 

He crouched down modestly, and made his move to jump forward. Just high enough to go over the height of the little girl’s body. Finally, after barely even half a second, there was a deafening series of cracks, snaps, and sickening squishing. The man stood on the girl, who’s rib-cage had caved in, the bones all bent inward and stabbing her organs from the breaks on them. Blood flowed freely from her chest, and splattered all over the man’s shoes, travelling far as up the pant leg and barely under the knees. 

Emily hardly felt anything from the jump. At first, it was nothing more than the immense pain, and searing heat of severed flesh, heavy weight, and the drowning sensation of her pierced lungs. She thought back, and tried to find her happy place. Her momma always said that the happy place could help her if she was ever scared, or hurt. She thought back to the first time that her papa taught her to bake. The smell of the cupcakes in the pans was disalluring, due to the scorched bottoms of the snack foods. Though, to her, it was one of the best days of her life. For so long, she wanted to learn how to bake, that way she could run the bakery with her papa when she was older. She remembered the one time she went ice skating with Ethan and Fred. She kept falling down on the ice and eventually, she learned how to do it on her own. She remembered her brother, who was good at technological feats, he would always play videogames with her, and invite her to his friend’s birthday parties so she didn’t feel left out. 

She then remembered her grandmother’s funeral. The burning feeling of sadness boiling in her chest, the tears stinging her eyes as they escaped down her face. The sobbing of family members that were even closer to the woman than she herself was. The children all looking on in wonder, not quite knowing what was going on, yet, due to the tension, they too were crying. She remembered what her momma had said to her. “She may no longer be with us anymore, however, she is not suffering anymore. She is going to be able to rest and feel no more pain.” 

‘Momma…’ Emily cried to herself internally. Her body was screaming at her, it felt as though she was being held under water, though she was still able to breath. Even though she still felt as if she was breathing, she could not understand why it was so hard. ‘Momma… where are you… I’m scared… I don’t want to be here all alone… I don’t want to be here anymore…’ she desperately called in her subconscious, wishing she could just nap, and wake to find it was a horrid dream. She would call her momma, papa, or big brother, and they would sing her a lullaby. They would hug her, give her the stuffed cupcake plushie she got on Easter, and stay with her until she managed to fall asleep again. 

‘I don’t want to be here anymore… please… why is it so dark? I’m so scared…’

Gunther watched on in horror as he had hardly heard any breathing from the younger girl, his soft brown eyes watering, before he lets out a squeaking hiccup, covering his face. He couldn’t run, it was too hard to breathe. Ethan was laying on the ground, face carved up like a pumpkin. Fred lay nearby, his throat no longer the water fountain of blood it was earlier. Now, Emily, she lay crumbled in on herself as if she were a piece of discarded paper. Fresh crimson pooling from her torso and flowing from her head, over the floor. 

He wheezed as he tried to get himself back under control, remembering he had seen Fred’s idle finger pointing at the vent earlier. There was no time to move, though, as the tall bunny-masked boogeyman was towering over him, knife in hand. He only managed to pull himself back the smallest bit, shivering in terror as he saw the being come closer and closer. He wasn’t even sure if this man.. This thing, was remotely human. Banging from the door reached his ears, his frightened eyes reaching the gaze of the employees, and his friends mom on the other side of the door. 

Ethan’s mother was currently doing her best to knock the door handle off of the door by smashing it with the fire extinguisher, and even though the handle fell off, the door still would not budge. The door had somehow gotten the stopper jammed where it would have locked, due to excessive pressure. 

Sirens started to sound in from the outside of the building, though they were still far away. 

Sadly, where there should have been relief, there was only more and more tension, and anger. Self-loathing emanating off of the parents of the oldest child, and deep shame-laced regret for the other children who would now have to be returned to their parents in a body bag. Some siblings would be losing a sister, and others would be losing brothers. Then, there was Fred, his mother would be all alone until her distraught husband would come home, and grieve with her. 

Unfortunately, the mostly unidentified murderer of the children had also heard the sirens, gritting his teeth behind the concealment of his rabbit-shaped mask. He then let loose a small chuckle. “I guess that we are being cut short kid. Your death is going to be quick and easy. Then, I can stuff all you little brats where no one will be able to find you.”

With a voice as bumpy as a dirt road, and as gravelly as a gargling grease, the man made a quick move forward in an attempt to quickly grab the sickly boy that was left. 

“Come here you little rat! I wanna make you meet your annoying and obnoxious friends~ I won’t take too long, I can’t afford to. Who knows, maybe if you come to me, I will make your death MORE painful, but quicker!’ 

Gunther shivered at the sight of the quivering man above himself, the disturbed entity that had been craving nothing more than blood, and entertainment. The screams of tortured little souls were like a twisted, and invigorating melody that ran as smooth as silk, despite crashing against the rocks of its cruel nature and brisk contemplation. 

The monstrous murderer above him went in to grab the kid by his shirt, only for Gunther to fall back, and start shakily crawling away. Another quick grab, and he missed again, the ginger rolling to the side before attempting to quickly continue his crawl. His hands and knees dragging through the drying blood of Fred that lay sticky on the concrete flooring. 

The poor sickly boy inwardly cringed, ready to let loose his far-since unsettled pizza dinner. The major reason why he had kept it down was due to knowing if he started, there was going to be no way he was going to stop long enough to get anywhere. He had Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome, if he had even started to lose his guts a little, it wasn’t going to stop until he either started regurgitating stomach acid, or maybe it wouldn’t stop at all. 

Another movement caught Gunther off guard, feeling an uncomfortably cold and clammy hand on his leg, before he quickly flailed, managing to kick the man in the face. The pursuing predator snarled in annoyance, before he finally getting a good hold of Gunther and pulling him back toward himself. 

In a few quick movements, the ginger was on his back, and the bunny-faced assailant was stabbing him repeatedly with the same bloodied knife. Plunging into the tender flesh of the child, and casting out pained, sad screaming. Choking on air and blood as it came spewing from his mouth, and onto the ground the join the others blood which had been decorating the floor before his. 

Just a couple meager minutes later, Gunther lay there, covered in his blood as his breathing slowed. His soft brown eyes fluttered closed, and he fell limp, joining the other fallen children in the abyss of the cold. The knife that had been buried in his stomach was now buried in his left eye, stabbing through until it reaches the side of his skull that rested on the ground. 

What had they ever done wrong? Was it because they all ate their cake before their dinner? Was it because they were loud when they were excited? Were they being punished for breaking something that they didn’t know they had broken? Gunther felt immense pain disperse from his head, and his chest fluttered in lightness before he felt immediate pressure on his very being. It was just like not being able to breathe. He was idle, and had no choice but to try and struggle for oxygen that he should not have to fight for. The main difference was that he was indeed breathing, yet the air had felt so acidic, it burned at the back of his throat. 

He remembered when he and his friends went swimming. They were all there together in the warm month of June. The water, too, was warm, and tolerated by his endlessly weak body. Freddy splashed him with some water, before swimming to the boat, and hiding behind it. Ethan was on his team, staying near himself to make sure that he didn’t start to choke on air, or water, and sink to the bottom of the lake. Another memory crossed his mind, of them all at the fair, enjoying a ride on a slow, and mellow rollercoaster. All of them laughing together as they watched a comedy show on the television nearby. 

Then there was the memories with his mother, both of them knitting mittens and scarves together. Her telling him stories about boating, and pirates. Good memories of himself feeding his lovely, affectionate parakeet. All of those piggy back rides from dad, and bubble baths with sailboats and sharks. Every fond, and tiny little memory that sparked him joy and happiness. He only felt emptier and emptier…

‘I just wanna go home… I don’t feel so good mum... ‘

Under the stilled silence, there was one thing that no one noticed, and that was the small movement of Ethan’s bloodied, tired hands. He heard it all, and stifled in his broken, disconnected sobbing. He wanted so bad to get up and help, yet, he couldn’t, he lay there, helpless and useless. His legs ached, and his head was spinning like a top. 

Darkness threatened to creep up on him again,but he refused to let himself be drug back down into the pit of unconsciousness. No, he opened his dark, despondent eyes, and he sought out the vent that Fred had been pointing to as his own life was lost. Slowly, he urged his screaming arms to move, he stifled any pained noises he could have made, and he pulled himself along the concrete clumsily. 

The monstrous man behind him howling in laughter, as he kicked the corpses of those 'bastard children'. Stomping on their loose limbs and shattering bone he had yet to break. In his rouse of laughter though, he turned, and saw Ethan, slowly making his way to the vent that had lay behind the crate. 

"Oh no you don't. Here I thought you were dead! Guess I have time for a LITTLE more fun.Come here kid! Those are your parents, aren't they? Why don't you come on over and say hello to them!! Come on, don't be shy!" the cruel and twisted creature made quick pace over to go and pick up the trembling boy, who had done his best to escape.

Hoisted up by a firm, and unforgiving arm, Ethan felt his lips quivering, he could hardly even see as it because of all of the damage done to his face, and eyes. When he was bought up to his feet, he was kicked in the back, before being hoisted up again by the back of his shirt, coming off the ground effortlessly. 

Ethan's mother looked at her baby in horror, just catching sight of how bad her poor boys face actually had been cut into, the child weakly tried to bring up his arm, and reach for his parents, seeing blurs where their faces most definitely were. 

"You bastard! You wretched, wretched monster!! Put him down, didn't you do enough damage, huh?! Let my baby go! Put him down!!" the distressed woman banged and banged on the door, shrieking her lungs out as she watched the smile on the purple-clad assaulter grow wider and wider. 

The father of Ethan was seeing red, slamming his fists on the door and kicking it with all his might, everything he could muster. It still was not enough, the damned door remained stuck in it's place. Unwavering, and unmoved. Profanities spewed from the fathers mouth like chain of smoke from a locomotive. 

Before anyone else could figure out anything to do with the door that they had not done already, the remaining boys mother went to utter some words of comfort to her poor, ailing child, when all of a sudden-

The bunny-masked man started waving goodbye to the parents and guards, laughing, before taking the knife in his hand, and plunging it into the back of the boys back. Ethan went to scream, but he was too exhausted, only managing to let loose pitiful whimpers and modest squeals. 

Without a seconds notice, though, the knife was discarded and the assault went into Ethan getting his face smashed against the seemingly indestructible glass of the door. Motion after motion, the repetitive sound of cracking and splattering. It was obvious that the boy wasn't even trying anymore, if he was even alive. 

Within two blood curdling minutes, the body was dropped, the window of the door bloodied with the damages to Ethan's face. No one could see inside,the darkness made it too hard to make anything out and discern from the shadows of the room. 

The feeling of pitiful helplessness flooded over Ethan, his eyes still watering and overrun by tears. His head felt as though it had been utterly split in two. Darkness pooled in his view as if it were a flood,his breathing hitched, and an icy chill clambered down his sore throat. 

He wanted to see his mom and dad's faces smiling down at him when he woke up in the morning. He wanted to hear his dad cheer for him and his musical abilities with the guitar he had gotten on his sixth birthday. He wanted to hear his mom make fun of him a little bit for running into the bathroom door every once in a while.

All he wanted was for this all to end. He had failed to be the protector of the other kids he had become such good friends with, he had failed his best friend, who was the first in line to protect all of them. He was a failure. He never gained the feeling of lightness as if he were leaving his now cursed grave. It was as if he was stuck in tar, legs heavy, and arms hopeless for the means of escape. 

His mom always said that good people go to a wonderful place when they are no longer alive... why... why did it feel like he was choking on his own blood all over again? Why did his insides all scream at him every time he went to move, why did his mind still wear heavy on him? 

A gut wrenching sob escaped, and the world around him became utterly silent. Sirens drowned out and screaming dying on the flames of which they were plated to his ailing ears. 

'I just wanna go home. I wish... none of this ever happened...' 

Fred wandered aimlessly in the void of which he had fallen into. His dark brown eyes fall down to his feet, soreness void of his body. He had gained back all sensations of feeling when he had ended up here.

All had remained silent in the void of which everyone had called death. The darkness of the world was overwhelming. No matter how hard he tried, he still could not see anything other than himself. He was dead, did that mean he was unable to comprehend the world around where he had been before? He only hardly heard of death from his father,and at an early age, he learned to understand it.

That, however, did not make it any easier to come to terms with, though. He was angry, and scared. He was unable to tell what was going on from where he had departed from the living. Did his friends escape? He made sure to point to the vent, though he couldn't say anything by that point. 

The meager memories of the pain made him flinch as he went to cover his throat, choking back a sob. The world around him was getting unsteady, or was it just him? He didn't know, he just wanted all of it to stop. It hurt to think about what happened. The sheer amount of utter fear, and helplessness. His pain and suffering, and not knowing what had happened to the others. 

The pores on his skin tingled with goosebumps, and his breathe continued to hitch, getting caught on strained hiccups. 

He fell to his knees, and lurched himself forward, lips trembling as he thought about his mom and dad. He wanted to go and hug them, he wanted his mom to tuck him in, and tell him about her day even if he was with her the entire time. He wanted to call his dad, and ask him how his day was. To make horrible jokes, and call each other goofy nicknames before he had to be taken off the phone so he could go to bed. 

A gut clenching sob escaped from him, rivers of tears falling from his eyes as he rocked back and forth, yearning for the soft touch of his mom, the protective arms of his dad, and the purring from his cat. 

He didn't want to be all alone... he didn't want to be here all by himself. He couldn't see anyone, or anything, what was he to do? He sobbed once again, and brought his head down into his trembling hands. Until something else caught his ear. 

There was more sobbing. This one though, sounded like a little girl.. that meant... that the killer had gotten Emily. He felt his heart flip as he shakily brought himself up to his legs, running in the direction he heard the sounds coming from. 

In a few solid minutes, there she was. The older blonde haired girl lay on the ground in a fetal position, curled into a ball. Her hands were over her heard, and eyes screwed closed tight. She sobbed and sobbed to herself, almost choking on her tears. Fred couldn't bear it any longer, he ran-

"Emily!!" he called to the fellow child, almost choking on his own tears again as he quickly went to get onto his knees to comfort her. His own eyes clouded with his sorrows, and now the regret of knowing that someone else had perished along with him. 

"F-Fred?" she tentatively let her traumatized gaze up from behind her hands, before her face scrunched up again, another sob escaping her throat. Now that they were both here, she realized just how cowardly she was, not taking into count that she herself was a child, just like the rest of them. They were all afraid. "I am so sorry! I am so-so sorry!" she scrambled to get up, trapping the younger boy in a huge hug. "I am so sorry I didn't try to protect you! You tried to protect all of us and we didn't do anything!" 

Fred was taken aback, he only shook his head fastidiously, and shook as more tears rolled down his face. "No, this is not your fault. Not anyone's fault, except for that... that... monsters. He did this... HE DID THIS!" the voice was calm, and doleful, at first, then it sprouted into a seed of sudden rage as he wiped his tears away with the nearest hand. 

Before Emily could say anything, though, there was a tired, used voice that called to them from a mere few feet away. "F-Fred? Em-mily?" Both of the grief stricken kids looked to Freddy's left, and there was Gunther, holding his arms close to his chest, as he cautiously took stumbling steps toward them.

"Gunther!" both of the kids unanimously cried, running over to the pale ginger, who's eyes had started to leak. He let a small cry escape himself as he went to also run to them,not caring if it made it hard to breathe. He just... didn't want to be all alone. Only after they all locked arms to hug each other did he realize there was no pain in his chest from heavy breathing. It was all... gone. 

"Gunther... I am sorry... I tried... but... I was too weak to help you..." Emily sobbed out, tightening her grip on the green eyed friend. She lightly tugged on the others shirt, making sure he was there as much as Fred was. 

Minutes and minutes passed, and their crying, and odd relief continued. None of them were alone, and it seemed that Ethan had even made it out alive, especially if he had not ended up here yet. Despite how dead he looked when Emily was trying to get the horrid being off of him. 

Or... what if he had died. What if he was wandering around this dark expanse... it felt as if they were going nowhere any time they moved.. yet.. the only thing they could see effectively was each other. 

"G-uys...?" the word was choked, and unbelieving, yet, in it, was some sort of relief. A kind of relief that none of them wanted to feel. Knowing that another one of them was dead, and they did not have to remain here alone, maybe even forever. "I-... I-..." the voice drowned out behind itself as Ethan saw his vision go blurry. "I'm so sorry..." he could hardly muster up his courage to face all of them. "I didn't protect any of you. I let you all die... I am so sorry!" 

The regret was falling from the oldest child as if he were a rainstorm. He hid his face from them, and collapsed to his knees, pulling at his hair in frustration, and sadness. His bottom lip bleeding from him having bit it too hard to keep his sobbing to himself. 

All of the children joined him, every single one of the children inched their way over to their distraught friend, and sat down. They all leaned into him, in hopes of gaining some warmth. They all cried together, until, somehow, their weary spirits all had fallen asleep, huddled together with nothing other than each other, and the black mass surrounding them. 

All, silently wishing that when they awoken, if they did, that they would be anywhere better than where they were. 

// And there we have it. I would like to hear of what you thought of it.


	2. Chapter Two - Darkness of the Gears

// It’s a lovely day to walk down the road, and if I stop singing I will- ‘drop my croissant-’. // Yeah, yeah, I know, I’ll stop. Either way, here is chapter two of my FNaF Fanfiction. I don’t expect it to get too popular on any site I will be posting it on, however, it is fun to write longer chapters. I think I have something solid going here and I want to add one more chapter to it at least. For the time being. //

Still, drifting idle among the memory, Fred opened his brown eyes, peering around himself and observing the surroundings that seemed to be sparse, and vast. Yet, even now, he was surrounded by the darkness that consumed him after his death. There was no familiarity, nor was there a single trace of tenderness within the hollowness that had enveloped him. 

The young and frightened brunette ganders around himself, desperate to find the likeness of the other children he had seen, and even touched what felt like mere seconds ago. The weariness wore, and wore into him, almost as if it were attempting to keep him stagnant in his gracelessness and the falsehood of stasis. It made him feel endlessly drained in a land of little perception, or interest. The feeling of heaviness, too, wore on the lad, and continued to do so. Tired brown eyes fluttered in the attempt to stay awake, heavy and stung still from the falling of liquid grief. 

The familiar, and disillusioned cold light that illuminated his small body was his only company, showering him not with the comfort of the sun, but the loneliness of the moon when all other creatures tend to put themselves to sleep. To the celestial body that nobody had paid heed almost every day of the year. Hopelessness may have emanated off of him, as his aura had made him feel as such. It radiated out with the likeness of heat that escaped a recently opened oven. 

It came barreling toward him, and splashed against his bare legs, and pale cheeks. This feeling was one he was common to be accommodated by, trailed and haunted by the memories of his mother being going for long hours of work. Alongside his mother being gone, to try and earn extra money, his father always having been drafted for any important missions by his military group. Only staying shallow amounts of time every stay. 

A fondness-vacant memory drifted back into Fred’s mind, and stung as if it was tacked to his own weightless body in this void of despondent nature and preponderant, loathsome memories. Memories of which he wish he could have forgotten, because his life was not that bad, he knew that much. There were others out there that lived more complicated, hectic, or even sorrowful lives than he. 

Fred let his troubled head seep itself into the topic, forgetting about his own isolation, and jumping right into his memories. Stepping all over them as if they were loose pictures dropped without a care in the world. Every step was a paper-cut of his life, stinging the bottom of his feet as he danced his deadly dance, vocal cords fluctuating with twisted, severed notes that would have trailed from his voice as he vocalized and immortalized every verbal key.

His troubled little heart and mind were all askew, death was not one to be trifled, yet, when he heard of it, it seemed so wonderful to be able to move on to the next stage. What had he done so wrong as to why he was confined to this insufferable abyss? Why were the others, too, confined to the abyss wherever they had trailed off to? Had they not been good, had not not done what their parents told them? Were they not honest, and if they were dishonest, they soon owned up for that very mistake. 

That man. It was that cruel, horrible man that should be in here. He did this to them, he would most likely continue doing it to other people. He is the one who deserved to die. How many others had he struck down, how many others had he assaulted and not gotten caught for? There was no way… absolutely no way that this man had not killed anyone before Fred and his friends. 

Pale, clammy hands clenched in themselves, quivering with an unknown rage that he would not have assumed he possessed. The feeling was so intense, and painful, tearing at his heart with the same intensity that of likeness to the jaws of an angry dog. It twisted the poor lads gut in more ways that any rope would have been intricately tied. A headache sprung up from his stress, and throbbed loudly hammering into the base of his skull. The beating of his heart quickened, and pounded mercilessly against his rib cage with the like force of millions of hooves hammering against the ground during any variant of stampede. 

Fred had somewhat started to become ashamed of his own actions, beyond that feeling of intense hatred. His mom always told him that it was not okay to hate people. No matter how awful they were, no matter how rotten, or cruel, or utterly selfish. The most human thing one could do was exercise forgiveness, and not forget about the past, but move forward to the future. Did such a morale even pertain to someone who no longer had a future? 

Perhaps it had not. 

His throat was scorching with empty, rage-laced words. His fists had grown more pale, clenched so hard he might have been on the verge of breaking the skin of his palms with his fingernails. Sweat started to form on his head, or at least, it felt like it had. With a deep, troubled exhale, Fred had managed to let his body fall more loosely and sat suspended in mid-air, motionless for a moment. 

Soft, dark eyes started to water again, though for some odd reason, the tears fell down the cheeks heavily in mass. Stickiness followed the tears, though it did not seem to evaporate and leave his face uncomfortably dry. Rather, the stickiness remained, and almost seemed to be mocking him for crying. Frustrated, Fred let out a loud bellow of confused anger. 

Pulling his sleeve up to attempt and dry away his tears, he rubbed it against his face aggressively, yearning to get the tears to stop. However, it seemed that his tears had a different plan, and continued to flow, no matter how many times he wiped his face with his now dampened sleeve. Even more annoyed tension built in his chest, leaving him to make a deep exhale before retracting his arm. As soon as he had pulled his arm back, he had immediately wished he thought against the idea. 

There, on his sleeve and trailing down his arm, was nothing but black. The color was as dark as ink, and yet it seemed to have stained the shirt with such a watered down color it was hard to believe whatever was on his face was the same liquid that now was all over his shirt.

In a somewhat shocked and distraught panic, the brunette went to wipe at his eyes, only for more of the liquid to continue the same flow. In both fear and disgust, he recoiled his hands, no longer wishing to touch the black substance. Terror and confusion continued to manifest in his chest, pushing him to bring his head into his hands. The confused Fred then attempted to use his nails to claw at his face, only to gain no results, not even the binding feeling of pain. 

All of a sudden, there was a brisk, and sharp movement, causing the boy to lurch forward, near hitting his head on the invisible abyss that was the floor of wherever he was. He felt light creeping in from several corners of the hole of which he had struggled in, yet, for some reason, there came no contemplation of carefulness, whereas he was not attempting to find an invisible wall to climb. 

Once again, the feeling of sinking overtook the child, almost as if he were being swallowed alive by tar, or drowning in oily syrup. He felt bitter cold nipping at his arms, which were the only limbs to currently be lying free. The tinge and tease of death, and terror clawed at him like cats, raking their claws down his flesh. 

Doubtless about the certainty of an inevitable demise, Fred ceased his hopeless struggles, convincing himself he needs to stop postponing the undeniable truth that he had been fighting here long enough. That he can now rest his weary little head and allow himself to come to terms with the event in hopes of finding his friends on the other side waiting for him. 

Still, though… the feeling of release had yet to take hold of his tormented soul, merely after stopping his stopping his hopeless struggle, he had come to a chilling conclusion that he couldn’t even move anymore. Attempting to will his arms to a fruitless flail, the troubled spirit realized that he couldn’t budge them. The limbs stay plastered where he had let them fall in defeat merely moments ago. 

Light started to once again flood in from an unknown source that lie so far above the brunette that he had to squint to even try and observe any areas light might not have been showered over. Illuminating the room brightly, merciless, and sharp, the light could not be looked beyond. 

There was an overwhelming pull from an unseen, unheard, unknown source. It was strong, and quick. It almost felt as if he was choking on air, or not getting air at all. The feeling of drowning with no oxygen. He, being dead, didn’t know what to make of this, other than the fear that was following so near to the bubbling confusion that tailed on his little heart. Just like that though, his darkened world was out like a light cut at the cord. Curt, and unexpected. 

… 

His arms were no longer heavy, but there was no hint of weightlessness that Fred had sworn he was going to feel. His legs were less heavy, but they too felt the same. Until then, Frederick had failed to notice that he had even closed his eyes, mainly due to the spiralling darkness that it took the kid very little time to become accustomed to and discomforted by. 

Opening his eyes, he took a moment to look around where he found himself resting, standing up, oddly enough. The eyes wandered around wearily before looking down at the pizzerias common flooring. Looking down even further, the lad could have felt his phantom inside tense at the sight below him. Lurching forward was a common automatic reflex for him, and yet he felt no need to drop bile in his nervous state of disbelief.

There, right below himself, were his feet, or what he assumed was. The large, plastic-felt paws rest against the flooring with an unknown firmness that only made the spirit desperately search within himself to pull it into movement. All in an attempt to prove himself wrong. The second he attempted the movement, there it was. His brown paw dragged forward clumsily over the tile. 

“Kkkkkrrrrrchht.” the noise itself was remorsefully meek, tired, and sad. Even though there was no need to breathe, the disdained child made the motion of intake of breath with his meager, previously damaged chest. No air came into his begging nostrils in their attempt to steady his un-level train of thought. Chest heaving in utter shock, and barely beginning to grasp at the straws of ludicrous realization.

He was now starting to envy being out of this body. The child just wanted out; his friends were waiting, right, he surely can’t leave them waiting! They were sure to eventually leave if he did now show up, which meant that he was going to eventually be all alone wherever he currently was. 

There was a low mechanical whirr that rang out from the side of the room, seemingly from the lesser corner. The possessed bear went to move its clumsy head to guide its attention in that direction. Resting in the corner, near the wall, was an unfamiliar purple rabbit animatronic of sorts. Peering up from the confides of its resting place, the calm and almost dare-one-say caring red-violet eyes peered up, the suit shaking as the gears adjusted themselves to the concept of movement. 

A voice pooled from the suit, audio filtering in and out as the mechanism inside the animatronic tried to also adjust to the most modest idea of life that had been given to it. “Please… don’t hurt me…” the voice was despondent as if it were to earnestly be begging within an inch of its non-existent life. The tone, the cool and mellow, understanding tone is what made Fred realize who he was actually talking to. 

No matter how much he wanted to tell himself that it was a lie he knew, for a fact, that this was indeed happening. “E-Eth-han-n…?” the audio filtered out with the clicks of a static repeater. Occasionally making way to try and reset the word before it was even finished. “I-ss-s that y-ou-ou?” The spirit within the bear tried again, almost desperate to find the familiarity lying within the machine that rested in the side of the room in front of himself. 

Confusion, and an awkward silence took over the space between the two creatures, before the purple colored herbivore modeled mechanism gently let himself make his way to stand with considerable difficulty. “F-Redd-erick?” the voice too, came out even more strained than the first had. 

Two or three more attempts at a failed self-elevation, and the purple rabbit was finally on his unnatural feet. The robot stood there, seeming as though he was on the verge of hyperventilation. The reality had yet to hit the older spirit, and as it did, it came crashing down like a harsh, and unforgiving bus. Ready to crush all of his ribs once more, before leaving him on the road to take in the sheer amount of damage that it had struck. 

The specter of the brunette controlled a body he seemed to be unable to rid himself of, and stumbled across the floor, almost tripping the metal-based macabre prison he had yet to know he had been encased in. The distraught child stumbled into the older one, both of them desperate to know that it was really each other that they were talking to. 

Before too many words to truly be exchanged between them though, there was a small cry in a far corner of the room. Inside of another crate, lay a yellowed bird robot. The creature looking up the ceiling above with unoccupied pink-tinted eyes. The teeth hung a bit loose from the beak, and several spare parts lay gathered around the occupied bird-entity. The cry, though, came through again, catching the attention of the bear and the rabbit entities. 

Familiar with the sound of the cry that had been emitted, both of the boys knew well who it was they were looking at. Inside of this horrid being was their friend Emily. The poor girl seemed to barely even process they were there. Unknowing to their presence, she seemed to be having a breakdown in her own turmoil-ridden self-consciousness. 

“E-Emily?” Ethan spoke out to the yellowed bird, hoping, that on a streak of luck, the girl within had heard him, and hopefully, upon hearing his voice, she would calm down enough to be talked to, at least. The time never came though, as the only sound being produced by the obscure entity she resided let out a low hum, and some internal whirring of a mechanical fan meant to most likely cool the system of the animatronic robot. 

“EMILY!” Frederick allowed himself to yell out to the girl, a small squeak came from the dingy creature, the eyes moving around as the girl was brought crashing back down to the confines of their horrible, horrible reality. The mere heaviness of her body, the pale,dirty looking form of the chicken robot that she resided within. Even so, trying harder and more desperately to get a grasp on the situation made absolutely nothing better about it, seeing as it was clear already that it was not going to change. 

All of this reality that they had become a part of had not changed. Nor was it going to allow them to go to the light they sought to find, or the burning flames of which they would have tried to run. Left in this form of stagnant existence, that was all of their future. There was no real point in there being a difference identified at this point. 

“Fred? Ethan?” The girl questioned weakly from inside her metal grave, the purple and brown animal molded mechanic wonders both urged their confining forms to nod to the girl, assuring her that they were there. They themselves were present and not going to leave her. Not if they had a choice. “Where is Gunther?” the chicken asked out, before looking around the room carefully. 

The sudden realization hit both the older and the younger lads, as they looked at each other in concern, troubled blue met frantic violet-red before both of them went to take a look around where they currently were standing. Chica on the other hand still lay in her box, put together, but not active enough to move, not yet. 

“Gunther!” Fred called out to the other side of the room, one after the other. The bear was starting to feel some sense of relief washing over himself, hoping with sincerity that Gunther had actually made it to where he was supposed to go. “Maybe he , of all of us, actually made it to the bright land. Maybe he actually got out of here…” he wondered to himself, his two index paw-fingers clang together lightly. 

There was a muffled voice, and a firm knock on some form a wood, most likely it was another crate of some kind. “I guess that would be a no, I was hoping that he was outta here unlike the rest of us… not even Gunther gets a break.” Ethan hissed to himself, every once in a while his voice box glitched, causing audio to be replaced with static. Though, giving credit where credit was due, it was straightening itself out. 

“Let me out of -ere.” the voice called, though, in most senses, it did sound like Gunther, the filter over it made it sound a bit older, and a whole lot more awkward. “I can hear you all oui there, but can’t see!” the voice called over again. “Can someone get me out of here? How am I alive, what is going on?” 

Oh no, it seemed that the young sickly lad had yet to be able to gather that they were all no longer what others knew themselves at. Being young, and impressionable though, the kids had yet to come to terms with the mere inconveniences of impossibility or even constraints of logistics or the lack of otherworldly beliefs. However, there was always the belief of light at the end of their lives. The belief that when they departed as someone old and wise, they would finally be able to find that bright happy place their parents always talked about to them.

“Gunther… we’re not… I am sure you remember what happened…” Ethan walked over to the noisy crate, gently touching the obscuring object that held his younger friend inside of it. The knocking on the confinement quickly was replaced with a deafening quiet stillness. The oldest child made his way to find the lip of the crate in an attempt to open it. He knew that being frank and honest about it was a bit brash… but it was better than finding out after getting one's hopes too high in the first place. 

“Come on Emily, can you come over here and help us open this crate? It seems to be stuck…” Fred asked the older girl after walking over to where the older lad had made his way across the room to attempt to open the object.The box rattled a little as Gunther, on the inside, shook it with his mechanical body. Though what he had been turned into had yet to be revealed. 

Fred felt is insides constantly tightening, or at least, he thought he had. Beyond his point of living, the pains he was feeling were most likely of the phantom nature. He was so familiarized with them and their situations that even in death, it was just a bit as if he were of the living.

Collecting himself for the nth time, he knew he needed to push his own feelings off the to the side for his friend, and just come back to it later. 

\- 

With firm paws and a lot of effort, the animatronic bodies all managed to pull the tightly sealed cap of the crate off, and stared at the body that Gunther had ended up inside of. The animal in question was a fire hydrant red color, with a slightly lighter belly, though, in all honesty, from a distance, one would not be able to really tell the difference. Other objects inside of the crate included a spare ‘hand’, and other loose parts that would have to be used to repair him sooner or later. One of the only other notable things was that the fox animatronic body had metal feet, and brown legs, most likely to signify some sort of pants or of the like. 

The one thing that Fred had taken note of was that he, Emily and Ethan were all stuck within some heavy and cumbersome bodies, and, for the most part were unclothed (at least in a sense). After all of them checked to make sure the sickly friend of theirs was okay, they all backed up to give him space. The second oldest made sure to attempt to get used to standing as soon as possible. 

After movement was figured out, the heaviness of the reality settled in over every single one of them, and the aura in the room became somber and heavy, soon replacing the borderline wonder and confusion that all of them had felt. Heaviness was evident, even more so now that there was nothing to accompany it other than the deafening silence. 

“... What did we ever do wrong?” Fred asked out to the open air of the room. The question fell on dull awareness and soon took to the wind like lost leaves. There were no answers for this, so what was there to say? What HAD they done wrong that warranted their slaughter, from just from this last half and hour alone, it seemed these cumbersome suits were a punishment of some kind. “I want to know what we all did wrong! What did we all do to deserve this punishment, huh?! Why trap us here, where we can’t even get outside of the room?!” the yelling from the youngest was starting to become broken up and hoarse, if there was such a way to do so.

Ethan quickly made his way over to the worked up friend, and clumsily hugged him, awkwardly due to the prison he was inside of. The other leaned into it, letting out disgruntled stifled noise that would have been fast, and dangerous breathing. The breaths filtered out through the static, and soon died on the end of the wave of sound just to be replaced with another. 

“I can’t feel the warmth, anymore, Ethan… I can’t feel it anymore…” The distraught younger spirit called desperately to the eldest one, trying to get closer, following a yearning to feel something natural again. To hear the beating of the others heart as they comforted each other. Sometimes, if Ethan was generous, he would also comb his fingers through Fred’s hair (Which is a common action that a lot of people like.) Fred’s grip on the other tightened, his mechanical fingers locking briefly, before becoming loose again. 

Emily and Gunther, knowing well that they were not too far behind in getting worked up walked over as well, and they joined into the comfortless hug, wanting to calm themselves, and the youngest of the group. Even in these bodies, it seemed so easy to become emotionally fragile. They had not been able to find a way to leave these prisons, or would they even be able to? 

All of them stayed together, resting in the positions they all sunk into the ground in, before deactivating. After the animatronic bodies had deactivated, Fred had no recollection of what was going on outside of the void that was his winding head. He hardly had any clue what was happening inside of it. Nothing but the chilling presence of the darkness, and low humming from a fan that somehow made its way into his subconscious. 

\--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--_--

Two men walk into a somewhat dampened smelling room, the rubber on the soles of their shoes quietly making heavy, dulled thumping upon the face of the concrete they were walking on. The smooth floor below their feet was cold, and relatively clean, minus the dust and dirt that had been tracked in over the last few weeks. 

After the murder of the four children in the diner, the old animatronics Fredbear and Spring Bonnie were moved back into storage, seeing as the restaurant was already being closed. Seeing as the place was being cleaned out, the new animatronics were being put together before the objects of the building were actually relocated to their new location. 

The brown bear, a yellow chicken, a purple rabbit, and a red rox animatronic were all left to rest in the room, which, in the second man’s case, only creeped him out. The dulled eyes of the robots were enough to make him uncomfortable with their presence right off the bat. The overbearing size of the robots was another factor that led to his common apprehension of them. Upon getting a good look inside the room, though, he stopped dead in his tracks.

There they were, the robots, right there. All of them were huddled together in the middle of the floor, seeming to be in a position of both comfort and agony simultaneously. The internal fans of the animal robots buzzed inside their bodies, cooling down any active system functionings, which, at the moment, was the only thing the second man heard. 

“Alfred, come on, stop standing there like a lump, we need to get these things packed into the truck, so we can transfer them over to the new pizzeria.” the first man spoke out from the front of the second, who looked at the other cautiously. “Well? Come on, don’t dally, it takes away from our pay out for our side of the job.” 

“I don’t know about this Brent… I think we should just leave them here… and leave.” Alfred spoke out to the other, getting the slightest bit closer to the animatronics as he said so. His blue eyes blinked in confusion, and growing shakiness in the mere presence of the machines. Looking at them made him feel cold, and isolated, and didn’t want to have to drive these things to the new pizzeria. 

“Stop being a chicken, Alfred. They are just robots, there isn’t anything to even worry about other than their size and weight. Just help me get them back into their crates or something, that way we can get going! This place is going to be dozed tomorrow, make sure to grab any other things we find here that might be useful.” Brent spoke out to the other, growing agitated with his apprehensiveness. The brunette then went to put the red fox back into his crate. He never even thought about where the animatronics had been before they were found a second ago.

“Brent, really, I think we need to leave these here… I don’t like the feeling I am getting off these… these THINGS.” the blonde backed up from the huddled group, before sighing, trying to recompose himself with a huge lack of accomplishment on the matter. “I don’t trust them, something about them feels … off.” he stated, before looking around the room nervously. 

“Can it, Al, we both know that they are just robots, there is nothing they can do to you, not to mention they were powered off anyways. You are fine, I swear to god.” Brent, as the other could tell, was easily becoming annoyed with the more meek man’s antics. “You are just paranoid, ever since that incident back in 1983, you have been nothing more than a bumbling mess. These robots don’t have a mind of their own.” 

“You would better understand what was going on if you were there, Brent. You don’t know the full scope of what happened, I do.” Alfred grumbled before he nervously looked down at his shuffling feet. “It doesn’t help that I was part of the reason that it happened.” the blue eyed man mentioned under his breath. 

“What do you mean you were part of the reason as to why it happened? Every single time you say something about it, you make it sound like you just watched from a distance. What did little Al do to cause such a problem, huh?” the voice from Brent was a little bit condescending, though, part of it was laced with a little bit of a common interest in the conversation. 

Al somewhat made a small curse to himself, wishing he had not even mentioned the past, at this point, however, he was the one who provided the hot water this time, might as well swim in it to get it over with. “I was one of the bullies that pushed Micheal’s brother up to the machine, before it bit down on his skull.” Alfred whispered out before he looked to the side, making sure not to say much about it afterwards for a good few minutes in the least.. “I saw that thing. It was as if there was some kind of twisted recognition, before the thing brought down it’s jaw. The head of the robot did not slip, even if it did, the pressure would not have been enough to even hurt Jesse back then.

“So…” the voice from Brent changed from one of general disinterest and relative annoyance to one that seemed to be a little bit more understanding in nature. “To put it simply, because of something that happened in the past with a different animatronic, and you and your friends collective mistakes, that is why the kid died?” the brunette was trying to make sure he had all of the information that the other was giving him correct and down par.

There was a nod from Alfred, before he looked to the side, not wanting to see the others face. His own expression went from pained, to mostly unreadable. No words were spoken between the two, and once there was almost certain to be no more conversation, Alfred made his way over to a corner where he saw several loose parts and other objects of the like. Off to the side there was a crate that was still in relative good condition. 

“I guess this will work for now…” the man said to himself, before he made his way over to it. Picking up the box, there was a light shifting across the floor, causing the blonde to instantly become nervous, thus making him drop the box. A relatively loud thud was heard as the crate it the ground, causing Brent to jump from all the way across the room. 

Upon the noise of the crate hitting the floor, there was enough of a disturbance to finally stir Fred and Ethan awake, at least. Emily, and Gunther however remained deactivated, leaning where they had before they had taken the time to gain what might have been assumed to be ‘rest’. The spirit in the bear looked around quickly, cautious and quick, before spotting the two living people that were in the room with them. 

Not forgetting what form he was currently in, but hoping for help, Fred made his way to stand up where he was at, causing both the brunette and the blonde to shout in shock, before backing up to their respective sides of the rooms. Alfred was already screaming, whereas Brent was about half way there. 

“What the heck is going one over here?!” Brent called out to the blonde, before his brown eyes shifted uncomfortably at the form of the bear. The bear made his way over clumsily, or at least he had tried to. The rabbit had started to speak to the other active animatronic, a tone of concern coming through it. 

“Fred, they are scared, you might want to back up a bit, I don’t think they are going to listen to us.” Ethan spoke through the rabbit, before the brown animatronic went to pull himself to a stop. “I don’t think they are going to be able to understand what is going on… we sure don’t.” when the second part of what Ethan was trying to say was starting to leave the voice box, the voice became jumbled and turned into static.

“They are alive? How? You know why, never mind, just help me turn them off, the sooner we are done with these things, the sooner we can get our paychecks, and leave this place. Come on, you get the rabbit, I will get the bear! The power switches should be on the back right under the head on the endoskeleton.” Brent quickly stated to the other, before he made a move to run forward quickly. 

“Wait, off? We don’t want to be turned off, we want he-” the bear started to say to the charging man, making his way to move to try and avoid the oncoming pursuer, failing drastically as he still was not used to his robotic host. Before he knew it, his world was snapped out like a light, or at least the feeling of anything he could control was. Soon thereafter his own world had started to fade into the black oblivion that it had been before. 

“Fred!” the voice was quick, and worried from the rabbit animatronic, before he heard another rushing of footsteps. Before he could turn around though, the host that held Ethan also fell limp, clanging on the floor. Alfred went to turn off the other two, before anything else could happen, taking in a shakey, pained breath after the deeds were done.

“We need to hurry up and get these things outta here. I don’t know what is going on, but I guess you were not bluffing when you said these things were alive. Hurry up, let’s go, we need to make sure that we just drop these off and go. DO NOT say anything to the company owners about this! They could cut down our pay, or they could even report it to the police and say we need to go to a mental doctor!” 

“What if they are aggressive? They could hurt everyone in the restaurant! Are you dense?!” Alfred questioned the other, before glaring up to him, and setting up to get the truck started. “What are we supposed to even do now?!” 

“We do as I told you we are doing. No questions asked, Alfred!”

Brent hurriedly called to the other, before making his way to the front of the younger man. His brown eyes glaring down into the others blue ones with both worry, and subtle disbelief. “We need to make sure that we just do our job. It is not our job to fail to get them these THINGS, whatever they are. It is NOT our job to advise against the restaurant using them.” he spoke clear, and quick, then, after a moment he backs himself away from the young man, who was now nervously looking to the ground. 

“Yeah…. Yeah… I understand…” Alfred said to Brent, before he went to go and grab a couple of the limbs on the bear animatronic. On the left foot, as soon as he lifted it up, there was an imprinted label of the robot's name. “Freddy Fazbear” the name read, Alfred uttering it under his breath. 

Making a motion to get closer to the thing, Alfred retracted himself immediately as soon as a rancid scent hit his nose with a force no less powerful than a raging bull. The smell was acrid, and stung at the nostrils with an unknown slam of power he wished that he had no ability to smell at all in that instant. His nose scrunched, and brows knit together, the man coughed and brought the collar of his shirt over his nose quickly. 

“What is that putrid smell?!” he called the other man, before looking back down at the man, who was too, holding his nose in disgust. Yet, somehow, the scent had been hidden from them all the time before they went to pick up the animal robots.“I think it is coming from the torso, we could open it to see what is going on-” 

“Use your brain Alfred, I said we are not messing with these things. Besides, didn’t you hear what the boss was saying to a more common worker yesterday?! These animatronics can’t have their chest pieces removed, it makes them bug out. The factory that issued them out even said not to remove the chest pieces unless there is an intention to discard the machine!” 

“Seriously? How are we supposed to clean it then? How are they supposed to do maintenance on it?” the blonde asked the other, before going to rub at his temples. Stress from the situation, and memories from what he had caused to happen years ago were all flooding back, making him want to back into the corner, curl up, and just stop existing. 

“I don’t know but that is their problem. Hurry up, I don’t wish to be here any longer than you do, and the sooner we get out of here, the better off we will be!” Brent aggressively stated to the other, his patience running shallow with him. “I just want to get out of this building, and preferably never come back here.” 

“I don’t wanna be in here anymore either…” the blue eyed male mumbled to himself before he slowly walked back over to where the bear was resting on the ground. Keeping his face in his shirt, he and the other used all their strength to hoist the bear up, and plopped him back into his box. “Good riddance…” the blonde thought to himself queasily.

A few more trips of attempting to get the robots back into their boxes and they were done with most of the heavy labor. The next task was gathering up all of the small parts and pieces, and any other loose objects left from the restaurant that was now being destroyed. Quickly gathering up the animatronic heads, for costumes, Alfred pulled himself to a halt. 

Staring at the head of the Bonnie head that he had picked up, he got memories, those bothersome flashbacks of what he and his friends had done to Micheal Afton’s little brother, Jesse. 

(Flashback) -

Jesse, who was a nervous little kid by nature hung out in the corner of the room, sitting next to the ginger haired sister of his, Elizabeth. Both of them were talking, while the younger sibling hugged his Fredbear plush close to himself. The green eyed girl next to him cheerfully babbled about how her papa was making a humanesque animatronic that she had helped to design. 

The feeble child congratulated his happy sibling, and he soon found himself getting nervous again. He was going to be getting his cake soon, seeing as it was his birthday that they were all at. The music coming from the animatronic characters on the stage was loud, though it was a nice tune. Spring Bonnie held his guitar close, and Fredbear held his microphone. 

Several kids that he had invited to the pizzeria were all laughing and playing near the small games that gave them tickets. After several of the maze games were completed, the jingling tune rung out over the party room they were in, and the orange-gold colored pieces of paper came spewing from the machine clumsily, making many of the children giggle in excitement. 

“Hey, Jesse, are you okay? You seem to be getting sick again… you haven’t said too much..” Elizabeth questioned from her side of the table, her brows going up in worry before she looked to the side, where their older brother, Micheal, and his friends were starting to advance at them from. She groaned, though, it was obvious she was scared. Micheal was oftentimes a big jerk to them, and made them do his chores, as well as constantly picking on Jesse for being shy. 

Neither of the two younger siblings liked where this was going, it was written on their faces. Alfred, from where he was in his group, saw how nervous the younger sibling of his friend was. Jesse had curled up, and hugged his plushie closer to himself, closing his eyes, before looking away as if he didn’t even want to look at Micheal. 

“Elizabeth, make yourself useful and go get me and my friends our sodas. Make it snappy!” the older sibling demanded of his little sister, the girl had obviously felt her annoyance peak, as soon as the other made the demand, she had gone to defiantly stick her hands onto her hips. 

“What if I say no, you big meanie?!” the yelled out to the other, before huffing, and looking up at him even more defiantly than before. 

Alfred remembered watching his friend Micheal clench his fists before getting even closer to his sister. He grabbed the little girl by her shirt, before grumbling. “I am the older sibling here, you listen to me when dad is not in the room! Now go get us our drinks, before I lock you in the closet!” 

At that, the young ginger had stiffened and looked over to the youngest shakily. Jesse, who was watching, and noted how his older sibling reacted made a movement with his head, signalling her to get going before he looked back at his older sibling, who was currently wearing a Foxy mask. 

“When daddy gets back I am tattling on you, you are a big jerkface!” Elizabeth called out to the older sibling, before scurrying off to the direction that the fountain soda machines were at. Micheal sighed from under his mask, clearly annoyed. The teen then looked back at his younger brother, before laughing at him. 

Some part of Alfred knew this was wrong, however, he was bored, and it was nothing new to him. He picked on his own little siblings all the time, giving credit where it was due though, he didn’t pick on them nearly as much as Micheal picked on his own siblings. 

Alfred went to think about the masks that they were wearing that they had gotten from the prize corner. These characters were supposed to be released within the next couple years, the restaurant having contacted a local robot company to make their designs. The designs were made by Deven Fazbear’s friend, who was moving away to relocate and find a good job to support his family under. Deven Fazbear was the owner of the restaurant chain, and William and his kids were just more recent to frequenting the establishment. 

It would be years until Alfred actually saw the actual animatronic for the cut out mask that he had been drawn to for a while since he had seen the mask the first time. Looking to his side, the blonde spotted the other two boys that were with them, Jerimiah, and Cameron. Both of those two were more into the action than the blonde was, though that made him no better than they were. 

“Come on guys, you saw how much this little baby loves this Fredbear plush thing, right? Let’s take him up to go and see Fredbear all close and personal, I am sure he will like that!” Micheal chimed over his friends, before laughing again, and grabbing Jesse by his arm. 

Jesse squeaks in fear under his older brothers grasp and instinctively went to try and pry his weak limb free from the older sibling, to no avail. Yanked forward, only to trip over himself and land on the floor, the weaker child instantly made his way to his default action; crying. This only amused the bullies, seeing the kid so worked up, and helpless. 

The Fredbear plush now rested over the ground, laying near the table that Jesse had been sitting at just a moment ago. In a yearning for some kind of comfort, the brunette went to go and grab the object, only to get pulled back by Micheal and Jerimiah. He made a small cry again, before trying to struggle free from their hands. He couldn’t run that fast, he was too tired for that all the time, so he knew that struggling was fruitless, but that did not stop him from being any more terrified than he was before. 

“Your brother is quite the baby, isn’t he?’ Connor asked from behind his Chica mask, laughing a little bit as he looked at the crying face of the youngster under the grasp of Micheal, who was just laughing in amusement at the comment. 

“He sure is! Come on, let’s make him grow a spine, guys! Let’s get him closer to Fredbear, I think he wants to get a closer look at him! Come on, Jesse, you aren’t afraid of a friendly robot bear, now are you?” Micheal snickered from over the terrified youngster, who once again made an earnest attempt at escape, only to fail pitifully as he had the last few times. “I will take that as a yes!” 

Alfred followed the two, carrying the smaller boy via his left leg to keep him from moving too much. His friends all carried any other part of the boy’s limbs, the young lad crying his little heart out as he begged and begged for the older boys to let him go. He even tried calling out to his dad a couple times, though he knew that the middle-aged man was nowhere near them at the time. 

Getting closer to the stage where Fredbear and Spring Bonnie were performing their tunes for the birthday party, the two golden colored animatronics sung and hummed as they stiffly moved in their places. The robotic joins shifting in increments as they were supposed to do. Jesse was heaving for breath as he tried one last time to pull himself free, the older boys all laughing over him as he shivered and shook in terror. 

Alfred looked up at the animatronics while he was laughing at the expense of the little kid, his blue eyes meeting with the robotic eyes of the golden bear for a split second. Looking up into the contraptions lifeless eyes was almost surreal, it was as if he could see someone in there, looking down on him in a somewhat condescending, yet confused manner. 

Stopping for a moment, Alfred continued to stare into the eyes of the bear, before blinking, and shaking his head in a state of confusement. The eyes went back to looking as empty and artificially friendly as possible. His attention was gained again by the voice of Micheal, speaking to them once more. 

“Come on guys, I think he wants to get even closer! He wants to give Fredbear a big ol’ kiss!” the teen laughed as his Foxy mask slipped a little, falling over his face even more than it had already been placed to begin with. 

“Who are we to deny the birthday what he wants? Come on guys, lets get him even closer, pucker up, buttercup!” Jerimiah laughed as he, as well as the rest of the boys, hoisted Jesse over their heads, holding him still, despite his utterly chilling cries and pleading to be put down. 

“Please, please, put me down! I don’t want to be up here anymore, I'm scared! Micheal, please, put me down!!” the child only repeats the words please over and over again, almost as if he were a broken record.

One of the attendees of the party room floor, finally spotted the commotion, having to clean up several messes and listen to screaming children, he came back from disposing of the garbage that several of the ignorant brats had tossed onto the floor. As soon as he spots the group of teens with the little boy, he grows angry, calling to them from across the room. “Hey, you brats need to get away from the stage, now, that is not any area for you to play!” 

Nobody heard him though, leading the man to make a quick pace to try and go over to physically remove the boys from the situation. 

Alfred watched as they shoved the head of Jesse into the golden animatronics mouth, and with a firm push, the little kid had his head completely sandwiched between the gleaming metallic teeth of the large golden bear of the restaurant. The bear still moved from side to side, singing it’s tune as it moved its arm, the microphone loose in the hand as it usually was. 

The worker of the restaurant was almost close enough to the group to be able to be heard more clearly, maybe even close enough to touch them in the next couple seconds, before he slipped on a soda mess that had been made somewhat recently, falling backward on the hard tile flooring and landing on his his hip. The awkward fall left the man in nothing but pain, his sides hurting, and unable to move properly. 

Over where the teens were, Jesse had tried to remove his head from the mouth of the animatronic, though he couldn’t get himself to free his arms to pull himself back. He heard clicking inside of the robots, followed by a soft sighing, and small remorseful squeak of the gears. The robot had stopped moving, just a bit. 

Jesse made another desperate call, sobbing inside of the jaws of the animatronic, unable to hear a gear that had started to spin awkwardly from the inner workings of the mechanical animal character. “Please Micheal, I’m scar-” before the little boy could finish his sentence, there was a sickening snap, and a clang of a gear, and, within milliseconds afterward a sickening snap, crunch, and the sound of liquid falling on the floor. 

Alfred looked up in horror and shock, seeing the bleeding body of the child twitching for only a couple seconds before those insignificant actions too came to a halt. No words were spoken, everyone in the pizzeria that had seen the incident were staring in mortification at the still body of the boy, while older ones had gone to cover the eyes of the younger children in the party room. 

“J-Jesse?” Spoke a girl from the doorway, carrying five sodas clumsily in her arms, all at once though, they hit the floor, splashing all over the tile in front of the doorway. "J-Jes-" Her words kept getting cut short, the shock, and sheer horror of the sight in front of he was making the ginger draw a blank.

Alfred too looked on in horror, seeing some of the blood dripping down to the floor from the body of the body of the little boy, Micheal was in shock. "I-I didn't mean it,honest! I didn't mean to, oh my god.. oh god. I am sorry, I am so sorry..!" 

As the memory fades, loud music plays over the blackness overtaking the mind of which it had been produced. Keen blue eyes wandering around the void as the world of dreams was ripped away and replaced with darkness. 

"How did it all come to this? Why are you showing me this?" a voice calls out from inside the void, sounding off in disdain.


	3. Chapter Three - A Curious Man of Purple

// Three chapters into this book, and I am overflowing with ideas, however, I am sure in a couple weeks, quite the opposite will happen, and I will be running low on ideas as the time continues to pass slowly. Just one of the many, many joys of being an author, I guess. Anyway, with that small grievance off to the side, let’s just into this chapter before I decide to flake out and abandon the chapter for another month like I did the other one. .-.

Freddy felt himself coming back to his senses as he looked around the darkened pizzeria and concentrated on the walls. Well over 10 years here, at least, though he didn’t know exactly how long. It was just a long time, several times he wished it would just end, so he and his friends could rest. So they could finally find the peace that they yearned for. 

The room in front of him lightly flashed, before he felt himself form a frown. The place they were in didn’t even hold the room that they were all killed in, and yet this room was treated in such a way that would portray it as the same one they all died in. The old diner where they were butchered was destroyed the day after they were moved into this new place. 

While most would not question such an action, Freddy did, most of the time, until he reached the conclusion that they were trying to start anew. After his own flashback, and now the new memories of a man he had only briefly seen twice, years and years ago, he was left with more questions than answers. When he was younger, he did notice that his mother became apprehensive of him going to the pizzeria for a while afterward. 

Now that the pizzeria itself was gone though, it made it no easier to look at the room that all of them had purposefully sealed off from the rest of the pizzeria all that time ago. The room had the loose animatronic body parts inside, along with the large adult-sized vent in the same general area that the one from their own open grave had been. 

“Why would you show me all of this… who are you… what are you?” the bear questions to the force weakly, feeling his gears slowing in sadness as he was forced to reflect on everything he was being shown. His synthetic blue eyes looked over to the spirit, the force of black matter lingering near the corner of the room. 

There was nothing other than the turmoil of light white noise from the mass, though, as it seemed that nothing other than the whimsical appearance was really happening, despite what the bear had been forced to remember. The mass floats out of the corner from which it was hidden, the darkness of the room sheltering what little bit of it would have been visible. There, in the corner, was a man in bloodied purple clothing. 

The man was rather tall, and somewhat lanky, his eyes darkened to black with white pupils peeking out from the darkness. A hat rested over his head, a golden button on either side of the flap where the hat was usually grabbed for the purpose of adjustment. His face was firm as well as a little pointed at the chin. His garb was still bloodied as it had been seen before, and his face was both stern and worried looking at the bear from where he was at. On the chest of his clothes lied the badge of ‘Vincent’. The very same name that the troubled spirit and his friends had seen before their painful deaths. 

In an instant, Freddy felt the phantom pains of his chest tightening, before he growled at the being in front of himself. The room in front of them was forgotten, and square teeth were bared in anger and hatred. 

The purpled clad figure in front of himself made no attempts to adjust their stance though, not to move nor to dodge. He just sat there, looking at the bear in sadness and an unknown emotion crossing the darkness of his eyes. The skin, even the the misty form he had been put into was scratched and several places had many burns on them, namely the arms. It was clear that this monster suffered before he died, good. 

Just as Freddy went to take a lunge forward, he stopped dead in his tracks. Getting closer to the man, it was clear now why this man was not attacking him, nor was he afraid. This man and the man he was remembering were not the same person. 

The brown animatronic pulled himself to a stop, glaring at the spirit as he felt his anger rise up in his being. “Why do you come here, to mock me and my friends for what that THING did to us? Why do you come here dressed like that? Huh?! What did we do to you to make you come here like this?!” 

The purple man sighed, looking to the side before he pulled something out of his pocket, though it too was only a phantom of what they really needed. There, in his hand was a badge that had another name scribbled across it. ‘William Afton’ it read, the name there in all capitalized letters across the golden ID. 

The man wearing the ‘Vincent’ badge pulled it up to reveal that part of the badge had been cut. Then, after a moment, he pulls himself to talk to the distraught possessed creature in front of himself. “I am Vincent… the man that killed you was William Afton... “ he spoke out quietly, his short hair tucked under his hat nearly seemed to lightly shift enough to fall from the hat that he was in. “I would have come here sooner.. Or even moved on… but.. I tried for years and years and years to find all of you.” 

“Even if that is the case… how did that man that killed us even get your name badge? Why would he go and do that if he knew he was going to get away anyway?” Freddy questioned the specter, before leaning against the wall in contemplation. His eyes never leave the sight of the previously accused enemy. 

“I am a weak spirit. I had a low amount of energy and did not have the means to come here… I tried to find the first pizzeria at first… and by the time I could have, the place was in shambles. I then needed to try and track this place back, as long as the process really was.” Vincent spoke out to the younger spirit before he adjusted his badge, still looking over to the kid remorsefully. 

“That still does not tell me why you are back here, as to why you felt the need to remind me of the most awful time of my entire existence, paranormal, or physical. Why did you feel the need to show me the memories of someone I hardly even knew? He wasn’t even someone that had anything to do with our death.” the bear spoke out to the entity. Vincent, on the receiving end of the borderline spite, shrunk back before he rubbed at the back of his head.

The purple clad man contemplated what he was even going to say to the other, not completely knowing the answer himself. “I don’t know… I was reminding you of your deaths in hopes of clearing up who actually did that cruel action to you. I also needed to tell you that he is still around… somewhere. Though he is definitely not within the living spectrum.”

“How do you know that?” 

“He butchered you kids in MY uniform, not to mention he was the reason I was put to death row, the people watching you guys in the room ‘confirmed’ that it was me, though none of them actually showed up to to trial. They only followed the assumption that it was me because Afton and I have similar body builds, and heights. It doesn’t help that we both had deep voices and that he used my clothes and a knife from my kitchen.” The man sighed to himself again feeling a phantom headache spring up from one of his temples. “I never got to explain anything because of our horrid government system.” 

“I see…. If I were any younger and less old in time past death, I would not have understood half of that. From what I have gathered you are saying that you can feel his existence because the leading spiral of these events wore the clothes that you are now stuck in?” Freddy asked the purple-uniformed male before himself, leaning against the wall in thought. 

There was a bit of a silence from the other before a sigh escaped him as well. “Kind of, yes, in a sense. These clothes were the ones I was executed in though… because of the fact that ‘I commit the crime in them’ as they say.” 

“That’s tough.” Freddy said to the other before he looked at the grown man “I wish I could say I am sorry… but it wasn’t my fault. To top it off, sorry is not going to bring either one of us back to life. At this point, it would be no more useful than an empty promise.” 

“Don’t be sorry kiddo, this was not the fault of you, and your friends. I wish you all didn’t have to suffer through these last 30 years. Nothing but this place to sit in as others come and go. Tethered to the animal bodies that hold you. Your spirits can’t leave your hosts, because this was the only place you really knew after you died, or were transferred to, at least.” 

Freddy was silent, before he looked off to the side, feeling his phantom gut tense up in both jealousy and confusion. Many things were running through his disdainful thoughts, and frankly, he was so sick and tired of it.. They all were. Everything around them was a horridly cheerful, and beautifully grotesque lie. 

Pain brought more pain, and suffering brought more suffering. Often times, all of them felt cold and alone, still yearning for the loving embraces of their parents, and the caring voices of their siblings or friends. The world around them was shrouded in the sharp bitterness of the cold, only each other and random other sources of entertainment to keep them company. The most amazing thing they had was each other. That was all they were ever going to have…

“How come you were able to leave the place you were at when you died? How come you are not tethered there?” The bear questioned the man before he looked over to him, feeling nervousness building up in his chest. “Is that really the only reason why we cannot leave here? Because we are tethered here and have nowhere else to go all on our own?”

“I died and left the area I was in soon after my death, I don’t know how I was able to move around and wander so easily. It might have been the fact that I managed to wake myself from that void I was in and escape before I had a chance to bind myself anywhere specific.” Vincent mentioned loosely under his breath before he went to adjust his stance, looking out the window before he looked back at the trapped child. 

“You, on other hand, were most likely trapped for a long time, I am sure time moves faster in that plane, no wonder how slow it may seem. Did you wake up in that body? Try leaving it, just for a second, if you can…” the man said to him, before he leans to start working into a walk. He made his way over to the boy slowly, before the keen white and black eyes gander up into the synthetic blue optics on the other end. 

“I have not been able to leave this body ever since I have been put in here… I don’t know how to.“ Freddy admits to the other, before he felt his mechanical arms slump in defeat. Now that he thought about it, he was sure that none of his friends had managed to move around either. It took them a very long time just to get used to the bodies that they had been trapped inside of. 

“I guess it makes sense. More than likely there is a stronger pull on you guys because you were never buried. You are still in there, almost fully decayed by now I am sure. These robots cannot be opened unless you wish for them to be discarded. After you all being killed the way you were, this place lost a lot of popularity, but that hasn’t stopped it from being used a lot nonetheless.” Vincent calmly said up to the animatronic, before backing himself up a bit, his darkened eyes scanning over the machine. “Close your eyes, and imagine floating if you can. Try to imagine pulling a blanket of yourself, or even changing clothes, if it helps…” 

“... Changing… clothes…?” the bear asked the man incredulously before glancing at him from the side he was on awkwardly. “Why would imagining changing clothes help out in a situation like this?” 

“It is not as awkward as you may think it is. Changing clothes is like shedding a layer of yourself, or losing unnecessary weight. If you can imagine changing clothes, you could most likely get out of there if you concentrate enough.” 

“I see… alright… I will give it a try….” 

Both parties were silent, waiting patiently to see what was going to happen. At least three minutes passed with fruitless efforts, the bear closing the lids that went over his optics before he attempted once more at evacuating the body he had been trapped in for so long. After multitudes of effort, he felt his entire being lightened substantially.

Despite leaving one force he was pulled by another, falling forward and somehow managing to pull himself to a float just above the tile flooring, not that hitting himself on the surface of the floor would have done any harm to him anyway. Naturally, by instinct he was driven to make sure he didn’t get afflicted damage.

“There you go, very good job.” the man smiled a little down to the brunette spirit. His eyes lightened a bit, before they went back to their dark shade, the only color Freddy had come to know the man with, even though, by formal means, they had just met. “At least you figured it out fast. That is a good thing, otherwise there might have been problems later, I am sure. People here discard robots all the time… you have all survived well over the maximum amount of time any robot does…” 

“What do you mean by that, Vincent?” the boy questioned, doing his best to control his levitation and balance out of his body. It was much harder than he thought it was going to be. Though, to give credit where credit was due, it was more pleasant than that cumbersome body he had been in just a short time beforehand. 

“Well, for a spirit that has resided here as long as you have, including your friends, you would be completely tethered to that animatronic suit. If they were to destroy it, you would have NO choice but to find a new host, or to you would fail to exist at all.” The purple clad man said to the child, leaning down carefully, before patting him on the head. “I don’t want you kids to fail to exist because of what happened. I want to help you all move on, but I know it is going to be hard…”

There was a calm, and actual comforting silence between both of the spirits. Freddy seemed to get a little worked up, his bottom lip tensing and going in to keep himself from making any noise, or crying. The brunette soul simply stood there, before bringing his little arms up to rub at his face and wipe away at phantom tears that were forming. The salty eye water cascaded down his face, almost a bit grayed in color, signifying the inky black that was sure to still linger there after all these years.

It was.. Amazing. There was someone else here, someone older who understood, and cared. Someone that, despite being put to death by something the kids were connected to, was ready and willing to help them in any way he could, no matter how long it took him to get there. The black and white eyes were surrounded in kindness and understanding, despite their odd, or even creepy nature of existence. 

The knot in Fred’s stomach grew and grew, before bursting into an array of butterflies. His stomach felt as though it was fluttering, this very notion or radiant tenderness is one that he and his friends had been without for a long time… wait.. His friends…

“Mister Vincent… Where are my friends? I was calling out to them earlier, but I could not find them. Before you gave me the memories, I was looking for them, but there was no noise.. I couldn’t hear Foxy humming in the hallway, Bonnie with his guitar… I couldn’t even hear Chica with her usual racket in the kitchen…”

“Your friends were all put into a harmless rest mode. I did not want to try and explain everything I knew from my standpoint to more than one person at a time, otherwise I would have only confused you all as well as myself.” the tall spirit says gently to the spirit before he looked down the hallway. “They should be down here, close by. Let’s go wake them up. I am sorry to ask, but can you get into your body again?” 

“Yeah… I can do that… no problem.” Freddy spoke out a little hesitant at first, before he walked over to the dormant robot. Then, after touching the surface of the metal body, he clambered back into the animatronic, and felt his soul reuniting with the consciousness of the machine. The blue optics opened back up, before scanning the hallway carefully. “Let’s go…” 

The walk down the hallway, for the most part, was silent. Vincent knew it was best to try and let the youngster keep all of this information in-tact and absorb it mentally before taking it any further. The world was cruel, and people on it were often even more cruel. He didn’t want to make the kid take in everything at one time. That would both be demanding, and selfish, seeing as he wanted to move on into the next life.

The hallway, for the most part, was modestly dusty, and had some loose papers on the floor. Olden tape finally letting go of the walls before the fall to their new locations, it would most likely be cleaned up sooner or later, though whenever that was going to be was beyond Freddy’s border of knowledge. 

Other loose objects linger around in the hallways, including some of the streamers put there to make it more entertaining, and loose confetti decorated the floor lazily, not yet to be swept up by the morning crew that would be entering the pizzerias doors within the next couple hours. 

The trek felt as though it took several minutes, maybe even half an hour, the two were lost in their winding thoughts, keeping close as to ensure some sort of parental safety that Vincent always had with kids. During the walk, the purple man thought to himself more and more about how the kids met their end. His memory wandered, and he found himself lost in thought. 

-

(Flashback) 

Sleeping was always more of a difficult task for Vincent. The man constantly found himself tossing and turning, no matter what the situation was. Too warm, too cold, randomly hungry, thinking too much. You name it, and it has probably happened at LEAST once before. The brown eyed man stared up at his ceiling in thought as he tried to adjust his sleeping position once more. 

No matter what he did, his troubled mind and body always seemed to be calling the bed he was on insufficient. The mattress was too hard, lumpy, or cold. Often times, it even felt as though it was moving all on its own. 

The only relief he got from his lonely life at home was the pizzeria he worked at. Fredbear’s Family Diner, a place where fun came to life. The establishment was only a few years old, despite seeming to be at least a decade, and the aura of the place was often laced with fun. Even so, that did not hide the dark secrets of what happened in 1987. Vincent was there… he remembered watching the kid get his frontal lobe taken out by the golden bear on stage. 

To top it off, after he had slipped and fallen on the soda mess over the floor, his hip was never the same after that. He had a bit of limp as he walked, and oftentimes, he would get spontaneous pains up his right leg due to pressure on something within that he did not know about. 

The pizzeria received a lot of flack for the incident, however, as one might not expect, most of the blame actually went TO or AT the kids that had led the event to taking place. The four boys were put on a blacklist from the establishment, just to ensure that nothing happened to any more of the youngsters inside. The boys, on the other hand though, did not argue, and just went with it, knowing well that they had done wrong. 

It appears that Alfred kid managed to get back into the clear, and worked for them as an upcoming transport of the new animatronics that had been created. Freddy Fazbear and his animatronic friends were first transported to the new establishment and soon it was going to be followed by the actual equipment. The animatronics had yet to be put together though, it would happen soon for sure.

The man stayed in his bed, before letting his eyes look over to the bedside table, the brown eyes seeming to remain as lost as they were doleful. Calm and quiet, he had finally allowed his aching body to make its way into the sitting position, many of the spiralling thoughts in his head wired around one common pole that he had been dancing around ever since his wife left him. 

There was nothing wrong with him, they both knew that, it was just that neither of them were ever happy together. He was always at work, and amazing as he was with kids he could not spend the time with his family that his wife and little boy had earnestly desired so much. Vincent did his best to provide the best home, food and any other needs that they had desired. He wanted them to experience many of the things he had never gotten when he was growing up. 

Eventually it went downhill even further. He had taken up a secondary job so he could try and get his little man a pet for when he himself was gone, that way he would no longer be lonely. 

Solemnly, Vincent went to make his way to sit up from his empty mattress. He was going to visit Abigail and his son, Dennis today. They were going to meet him at the park, that way they could all hang out together. Abigail was also bringing her husband, Mitch, so he and Vincent could properly meet. 

The mostly-bald man was certainly jealous, to an extent. After all, Abigail used to be his wife. It took him a while, of course, but he had eventually let her go. He didn’t make her happy, and he was never home. When he had days off, he was proud of the fact that he could still be in his son’s life, and that Abigail was still his friend. At least they could keep a solid friendship. 

Making his way to sorely remove himself from the bed, the man went to walk across his dark brown carpet. His feet, too, were sore. The blisters on the bottom of them needed to be popped and properly disinfected, and wrapped before they hurt even worse. After all, he had work tomorrow. 

Opening his door, the aging male made his way down the hall, and let darkened eyes wander over to an open window. One he knew for sure that he had closed last night. Sudden dread made his stomach lurch, before he grabs the wall for support. As quietly as possible, Vincent regains his bearings. Reaching over to a nearby coffee table, his firm hands extend their lanky fingers to grasp an unplugged lamp that rests idle near the chair.

Pulling back the light, but efficient object, he let his eyes narrow as he squinted to see in the modest darkness of his living room. No movement, no breathing nor shuffling of sneaky feet, not even hand dragging on the wall lightly to guide one's way down the hallway.

Haphazardly, Vincent made a cautious step forth into the living room, aiming his destination to that of the area that the window resides, open, the curtain flowing as a steady breeze blew into the room. Inching closer and closer, Vincent felt bile rising in his throat, slowly but surely. 

There, on the windowsill, was a sizable pool of blood, some of the blood pooling in and dripping down the wall from several cracks in the structure that lead some often questionable stability. Resting off to the left was a severed hand. The hand was small, and hand a hair tone to it, not one that had been exposed to the hand so much. Sprinkled over the skin were gashes and one stab-wound through the palm. 

The hand was, of course, no longer bleeding. It seemed to have been drained completely of blood, bleeding out for as long as it had been presumed to be. Vincent closed his dark eyes, no longer holding the desire to look upon the severed limb. He wanted to cry, or shout; the man just wanted this all to be one horrid nightmare. The Fazbear Employee brought quivering hands up over his tightened jaw, and breathes into it, in hopes of slowing his breathing down enough to think rationally. 

The thoughts in the man’s head were turning quicker and quicker, rather than settling down, the shock was starting to kick in harder than a professional football player making the moves to score a one-shotter over the ‘Y-Post’. Unable to hold his remnants from the meal of last night, he rushed to turn heel, and dip into the bathroom. 

Slamming the door open, Vincent closed his eyes harshly, and released the contents of his stomach into the toilet with great heaviness. The bathroom was spinning around him, making the man dizzier and dizzier as the surroundings became fuzzier and fuzzier. The first round was not enough for him, though, for he released his sickness into it about three times more.

By the time Vincent was even done, the only thing that he could feel was emptiness, the last flushing of his bile containing nothing more than a few chunks of discount pizza and stomach acid. His eyes watered from the pain in his stinging throat. His eyes tried to seal themselves closed in an attempt to keep the sting of the tears from reaching him too intently. None of it relieved what he knew he was going to have to do next…

Reaching up to the towel rack behind the toilet, the man found the toilet paper that he had needed to try and clean his nose and mouth with. Most likely his eyes too, at this rate. As soon as he pulled the object he sought from its place, he felt something roll off of it, briefly rolling off his unclothed arm, before plopping in the toilet. 

The feeling that was produced on his arm was similar to that of jello, or a rubber bouncy ball that had been put into someone’s mouth at some point. Slimy, though it certainly was not a dramatized feeling, it was one that he did not like. The startled man went to quickly wipe his mouth and hands with one set of clumsily rolled paper, attending to his face with the next. 

As soon as the employee had done so, though, he instantly regret this action, feeling the chill in his spine run even higher. He shivered, feeling his mouth open wider and wider until the lower side of it started to hurt. His lungs burned in yearning for the air he had unconsciously cut himself away from.. The tension growing in his chest was way too much to contain it any longer. With a shallow breath, and an inability to close his eyes, he screams before pulling himself back from the toilet, retracting his hand in desperation to remain as far away from it as possible despite not being able to move far. 

There, within the confines of his bile in the porcelain bowl was a loose eye. The eye seemed to be hazel, or close enough to that color, at least. The body-lacking window to the soul stares up at him from where it had been dropped, as if begging to ask the question ‘why?’. 

Overwhelmed by the feeling of dread and his inner systems shaking all the while with his grown-frail being, he backs further into the bathroom, before tripping over the edge of the tub. He fell back, and nearly hit his head on the wall on his way down. The growing pain in his back from the fall didn’t distract him though, as Vincent looks to his right, he spots several bloodied teeth sitting near the drain. Childrens teeth, along with part of a severed, bloodied jaw bone. 

By this point, Vincent was starting to hyperventilate, his brown eyes growing dilated as he covered his face in an earnest attempt to not see any of this horrid sight anymore. Removing his hands for a moment, he quickly looks around the bathroom, his breath weary and unlevel. The walls seemed to be shrinking in on him, and lights felt as though they were swinging overhead. 

One failed breath, two failed breaths… three, four five… ten, eleven… it’s hard to breathe, he wants to breathe, all he wanted was to breathe, and get out of here. He wanted out but he couldn’t shake himself free of his inability to move. 

Shaking like a leaf, Vincent had attempted to pull up his quivering arm and hold on to the side of the tub. The limb refused to communicate with his body, and heed his signals. All it did was blatantly refuse, before forcing him to slip and lose his grip on the firm bathing units walls. As Vincent went to pull himself up once more, something fell on him from overhead, squishing in his lap as it landed on his bare chest.

Blood sputtered up his chest, and a little onto his chin, looking down, the man let out another petried scream, barely even getting his breath back before he brought up his hands to try and take whatever had landed on his chest off of himself. His hands clumsily shiver as he attempted to remove it, barely grabbing it before dropping it again in disgust and horror. 

The object was a thick, and large chunk of skin and flesh, presumably peeled, no, CUT from someone’s face, the flesh and muscle still in good enough condition to hold the severed ear that was attached to it, along with blackened hair that loosely occupied small parts of the scalp that had been left behind. 

The smell coming from it though was nonetheless putrid. Vincent only continued to scream, at this point flailing as he did so, desperately trying to get out of his tub, despite feeling immensely remorseful for whoever this used to belong to, he was desperate to get it off of himself. He was so busy screaming he failed to hear the banging on his front door that was being produced by his concerned neighbors. 

The banging was followed by concerned yells from the wife and man of the house. The banging on the wooden obscurity was only loud enough for them to be heard, but soon after the screaming had failed to stop for quiet down, the man took it upon himself to clear his wife out of the way, before slamming all of his weight into the oak-made obstacle. 

Coming down with a harsh crash, both the wife and man run into the house with the need to find their friend in worry he was being tortured or killed. Anything of the like, they made their way down the hall after passing the window, failing to notice the severed hand that rested there with ease. As soon as they reach the bathroom, both of them stop in shock. 

Vincent sat there, flailing, blood splashed over his chest as he tried to get a grip on the side of the tub, or control his limbs the right way so he could get out. He continued to scream,barely noticing the figures, and soon forgetting all about them soon after they were spotted. The screaming started to lace itself in with distressed sobbing, and intense coughing from the lack of oxygen.

Spotting a couple of the sources of stress in the tub near the drain, the wife to the man covered her mouth as she moves back, then spotting the loose eye in the toilet within the bile. “Oh my god…” she whispers to herself as she too, started to feel ill. The screaming from their ailing neighbor snapped her out of it though, enough to make her turn her head and look away. 

“Vince! VINCE! Come on man, calm down, you need to-” the words were falling on deafened ears as the man didn’t even seem to be aware of his existence. Knowing well that it was not always a good idea, the man sighed, and brought his hand back before slapping Vincent across the face. 

The sudden pain that struck him across the face was enough to grab the troubled man’s attention. His eyes went from dilated to utterly spaced out. Within the minute, the eyes regained their focus, and Vincent forced his pained chest to inhale the air that his body was screaming for. 

“Vincent, come on… cover your eyes, cover them for now. We need to take you out of here…” The woman said to him before walking over to him, and putting her hand on his face. She, being considerably older than he was, thought of him very fondly. “Come on sweetie… you don’t need to continue looking at this… we will call the police.” 

“Vincent… do you know-” 

“Dear… not now… the police are already going to question him, we don’t need to patronize him early… he needs a break…” the wife spoke out before using all her strength. “We need to make sure to let him rest… he has been through enough this morning already.” 

“Yeah… I know dear… but… what do we do? Abigail is still expecting him today, so is his son, and Mitch. We can’t find any good ways to explain THIS to them.” The man said to his wife, making sure to help on his end to stand Vincent up, supporting the weak legged man as he stumbled over himself. His feet were as feeble as a lamb, barely keeping the stability they had over the ground already.

“I will call them later as soon as I can… they are supposed to be here as soon as eleven today for their trip to the park. I need to also take Vince to the doctor… he fell into the tub… I am sure that his hips did not take the fall well…” 

“I know dear… come on. We need to get started. Hopefully he will be able to get over this. First, the bite. Now… this. Poor Vincent needs a break, I know I would not be able to handle it …” 

(End Flashback) 

“Vincnent!” a loud mechanical voice called to the man, snapping him from his stupor. The purple spirit looks over to the animatronic bear who was quirking his head in confusion. “Are you alright? I have tried to talk to you several times, you were too distracted to even hear me…”

The black and white eyed ghost only felt his brows knit together, before he looked to the side. “I am fine… I was just very distracted, as you mentioned. I was thinking back to the downward spiral of events… that lead to me getting sentenced to death.” At this point, there was no real aim to be dishonest to Fred, he was as head as Vincent was. If anything, he might understand, just a bit, anyway.

The brown bear heard the sound of distant voices, before he looked back to the spirit whom he had met just a short while ago. He did indeed wonder how the other ended up being put on death row. His papa, when he was alive, always told him that people that were sentenced to death were very bad, or evil people. That question would have to wait for a moment, though.

His friends were coming, and they were sure to be just as mad as he was… until they too came to the realization that he was not the one who did all of this to them. It was best to save the energy, time and effort for something that was actually important. 

The first outside noise that hit Freddy’s ear sensors was the hum of his friend, Foxy, who was slowly walking down the hallway, Chica and Bonnie trailing loosely behind him, talking to each other in concern. As soon as they spot Freddy, they had soon become overjoyed, just for that joy to be diminished by the sight of the purple ghost trailing nearby.

“You…” Bonnie spit out, his eyes going black and white immediately in anger, the rabbit animatronic when to bend down, and lurk forward, a low metallic whir coming from the voice box. “Freddy, get out of my way… that EVIL MAN is right behind you… how do you not see him?”

“I do see him, Bonnie. I know who he is, and this right here is not the man that killed us. It is better we avoid an unnecessary fight, or disagreements with each other, so we don’t cause havoc. Now release your active mode…” the bear spoke out gently to the older spirit. The rabbit only let out a disgruntled grunt, before the eyes returned to their red-violet color.

“How are you sure this THING is not him? He did this to us.. You all of us know we need to put him down so we can rest!” The rabbit was not thinking clearly the anger clouded his common sense, but not his patience with his friend, leaving him torn on what he wanted to do. “How can you not see who it is?”

“Bonnie… it is NOT him. I know it looks like him, but … there is a reason. This is the actual Vincent. The man that killed all of us was named William Afton… and he managed to frame Vincent for our death, because they both looked somewhat alike. They are both tall, and built the same with similar voices. However… The man that killed us had longer hair, his eyes were also lighter in color… though it was hard to see past the Spring Bonnie mask” 

“How can you possibly remember all of that Freddy?I was too scared to even look at him…” Chica sounded out from her animatronic prison before she looked to the side, feeling her chest heave in heaviness. “At this point… what CAN’T he suffer like we did? Someone needs to...?” the girl was starting to become desperate, and confused. 

The bear walks over to the chicken animatronic, before sighing, and putting a paw on her shoulder. “Emily…” He started off with the human name of his friend, seeing as he has not used it for a long time. “I know you want others to suffer… I did too, especially when we first started with our … ‘lives’ here.” Freddy continued, before looking down at his feet, where several darkened stains from old blood rested before his annual cleaning. “Remember when we were killing the night guards, hoping one day we would find him? We killed many people with families… even a couple teenagers. What we did was not okay…”

All three of the others in front of Freddy sat in silence. Foxy sits down, leaning against the wall. “Yarr… we know Freddy. We aren’t proud of it either. We can’t justify what we have done… we can’t justify a single thing.” 

All of the animatronics collectively talked together, before they brought each other closer into a thoughtful, but still cold hug. Vincent watched them all, sighing to himself, the harsh reality only started to weigh on the man even more. These were all only children. All of them never had the chance to grow up, and died in the worst ways possible, he was sure. He only heard lightly about how they were killed… no longer desiring to hear more from the police when he was taken to trial after the incidences at his house were reported.

All of them were still just children… 

All of them… deserved to be free…

// As you can tell, this is written from a 3rd person point of view. Though, it is told more from Vincent's perceptive now. I hope it did not get too confusing around there. Please BEAR with me. :”P


End file.
